


Worldwide Discovery

by AlminToms



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Digital Art, Historical Hetalia, Historical References, Illustrations, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Social Media, Tags May Change, nations revealed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2020-07-29 14:17:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 61,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20083597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlminToms/pseuds/AlminToms
Summary: On February 21, there was an unsanctioned release of documents about the existence of personified nations by an independent group in the American government. Overnight, it seems like the world have gone to Hell.Marching head first to a new era, the personified nations have to look back at their past and make amends for their sins. However, they might cannot deal with the public backlash with their people and bosses.Nevertheless, they must continue with their never ending lives.





	1. South Europe - 1

It’s around seven in the morning when Feliciano - the personification of Northern Italy - woke up. Despite many popular beliefs and his habit of taking a  _ siesta _ just about everyday, the man was a morning person and had no problem waking up and taking a quick shower. However, he can’t say the same about his older brother.

“I fucking hate my life,” Lovino - the personification of Southern Italy - grunts, stumbling to the nearest seat around their island table, as he tugs on his suit tie. His clothes were a mess, just having enough effort to loosely knot his tie while not giving a damn about the rest of his wrinkled entire. 

Feliciano slides a mug of coffee towards his brother. Personally, Feliciano would make his brother a shot of espresso in the morning, but earlier in the week, he was making some homemade pasta and somehow, the dough ended up in the pipes of their expensive espresso machine. Lovino is still bitter about it, but after Feliciano tearfully promised to fix the machine with his next paycheck, he continued with his life as usual. Only without that sweet liquid for the next week and a half.

“Brother, don’t be like that,” Feliciano tries to cheer his brother up. “Tomorrow is your off day, remember? We can go to church, and then we -”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lovino slips his coffee with a scowl on his lips. “I know tomorrow is Jesus Day! I just hate it when I’m stuck with paperwork and shitty politicians all day long! If you were there, then at least, the paperwork would be split between us!”

Feliciano chuckles nervously and he gently pats his brother’s back. “Romano, Romano,” he says, using his brother’s nation name. “It’s just one day out of the week. I’ll be there to help for the rest of the week, okay? Just bear with it for a while.”

Lovino downs the rest of his caffeine goodness before saying one last thing. “We need to talk about days off with our dumbass of a prime minister!”

“To be honest, we’re lucky to have two days off a week,” Feliciano stands up, grabbing his brother’s mug and putting it in the sink. “I heard most nations only have one day off, and America has none!”

“Well burger-for-brains shouldn’t elected a racist orange then!” 

* * *

“Well then, bye-bye big brother!” Feliciano waves his brother off, walking in the opposite direction of his brother. “I hope your day gets better!”

Lovino grunts, still pissed about the morning, his sleepiness, and whatever minor inconveniences he can find in his general vicinity.  _ Damn sun,  _ he thought, the light shining in his eyes.

However, Feliciano see this grumpy behavior as normal for his brother after living with him for a hundred years or so. If his brother was genuinely happy in the morning, he would take him to the nearest doctor in a panic. 

Anyways, Feliciano had a day off! No matter how old he gets, nothing beats a day where you are free from a job! In fact, he got a checklist of all of the things he wants to do.

“First, I want to get a quick breakfast,” Feliciano mutters to himself, walking towards the open market with childish vigor, as he shifts his messenger bag filled with art supplies. “Then I need to get some eggplants for the  _ Melanzane alla Parmigiana _ tonight, then I want to draw in that really, really pretty park, and - Oof!”

Feliciano slams his face directly into someone’s chest. “Sorry!” he apologizes after he removes himself from the person’s chest. “I didn’t see you there! I was thinking about my day and - My goodness, you’re big as my German friend too!”

The man in front of him was, indeed, big and intimidating as Ludwig, the personification of Germany, and was holding a phone in his meaty grip. However, despite Feliciano’s friendly  temperament, the stranger was uncomfortable in his presence. From wide eyes to sweaty hands, Feliciano tilts his head, confused of the man’s worry. 

“Are you -”

Before he can say anything, Feliciano was shoved to the side by the man. “Get away from me,” he says, dashing off until his silhouette is nowhere to be seen. While rude, it just left Feliciano even more confused. He checks his pockets and his messenger bag, thinking that it may be new pickpocketing trick or something. It’s not out of the realm of possibility as he had witnessed many times his brother’s ability to be a skilled pickpocket. 

. . . No, everything’s there. From his wallet to his sketchbook and charcoals, everything was there. 

“Then why did he . . . ?” Feliciano mutters. There is no answer to that man’s attitude.

. . . Well then, Feliciano just has to continue with his life then, not knowing the truth about that man.

* * *

After getting the biggest eggplant he can find in the market, Feliciano decided to head to his favorite cafe for  _ merenda. _

“One  _ affogato  _ please,” he says with a smile.

“Four euros,” the employee says bluntly.

After the transition, Feliciano sits at a table near the wide windows that the cafe provided. As he indulges in his sweet drink, he observes the shop’s detailed decor. The cafe is well-known throughout the internet as having delicious Italian treats and having historical inspired designs of a Roman house. While it doesn’t have those beautiful wall paintings or a large hole in the ceiling with a tiny pool underneath, it is just detailed enough to remind Feliciano of his grandfather’s  _ atrium _ . 

It was a wide space where important people come to gather and talk about matters with the personification of the Roman Empire. Feliciano - as a newborn nation - was not allowed to be around these people and was forced to another room or outside until all of the guests were gone. His grandfather was strict about this rule despite spoiling his grandson with everything else. No matter, Feliciano did what he was told and come back when the coast was clear.

“It’s him!” A whisper breaks his thoughts. “It’s the guy on the news!”

“No way!” another curious voice enters. “What are odd of -”

Feliciano turns his head to the two chatty girls. And two  _ pretty  _ girls too. Out of habit, Feliciano smiles and waves at them as an attempt to flirt with them. Similarly to the man earlier, the girls stare back with anxiety-filled wide eyes. Their manicured hands shake before them as the Italian continues to make eye contact with a lighthearted smile, wondering if they would talk back to him. Without question, the girls get their things and walk out of the cafe, abandoning their half-eaten items for the staff to clean up. 

“Ve . . .” Feliciano says to him out of habit. He is really confused now. First, the man, and now, the girls! What is going on? Does he look like a criminal to them? Feliciano think he doesn’t look like one. After all, he was just wearing a red button up with some jeans. Most people would think he looks like an artsy college student with the messenger bag. 

Or maybe he's creepy for staring back at them? But he was being friendly to them! They couldn't be creep out by a friendly guy, right? 

It’s just so weird. Or he's just being creepy.

* * *

Feliciano has been coming to this park since it - the Villa that was in the middle of the park - was built in the 13th century. If he remembered correctly, it was built for a pope, not that he remembers which pope built it. Back in those days, popes will come and will be gone in a quick second. So he’s sorry if he can’t remember which pope lived here before. However, this place might not belong to a pope at all and Feliciano is just remembering incorrectly.

However, it is still a beautiful scene regardless if the villa used to belong to a pope.

Feliciano sits on the nearest concrete bench and took out his sketchbook and mechanical pencil. He was lucky that it’s near the end of autumn season but not too late for all of the tourists to come and crowd the area. Sure, there’s people here and there, but it is expected for a popular tourist attraction.

As Feliciano lightly sketch the outline for his charcoal drawing, his mind wanders back to his grandpa. When the Roman Empire was well and alive, his grandfather had encouraged him in many artistic endeavors - whether it’s writing, singing, or painting - saying “When you’re artful, so are the people in you!” He didn’t know at the time, but it was true. When a nation personification does certain actions, the nation - as a whole - will mimics those actions. So when a nation attacks another nation multiple times over a short period of time (saying within three months), there will be a war between their related countries. When a country is depressed or sick, their economy will reflect that and vice versa.

So when the personification of Northern Italy is being artful, the whole side of this country is being like that too!

There are art museums popping out of the works, displaying wondrous creations. There are more young creative people with bright and hopeful eyes on the streets, trying to selling their works for cheap. There’s even going to be a popular animated movie next year from this new studio in Rome! He means "Look out, America's Disney! Here Italy comes with inspirations from Japan's animes!"

Or maybe he just win Eurovision next year? It’s a plan.

To be honest, Feliciano wants to do this more often, but all of his time has been going to his government job. He just kind of wishes it would be like the Renaissance where he had plenty of free time to do what he wants, which includes drawing and painting most of the time. But to be completely honest, Feliciano’s dedication to the arts and a lot of free time given by his bosses may be the reason why the Italian Renaissance happened.

“Oh my God!” a voice declares in English. “It’s that freak that has been trending on Twitter!”

“‘Freak’?” Feliciano turns his head towards an obese woman who’s undoubtedly one of America’s people - especially with all of that fat and terrible fashion sense. Like seriously, who unironically wears a moo-moo in this day-and-age? Anyways, she is pointing at the man accusedly with a terrified look plastered on her chubby face. 

“Excuse me,” Feliciano spokes in perfect English. “But why are calling me a ‘freak’?” 

“Because you are, you unholy thing!” The woman barks, spit flying to the Italian’s face. "A freak! A demon!" 

“I’m sorry, but I’m catholic, ma’am!” Feliciano wipes the spit away, panicking. "But are you okay? Do you need me to call someone? I mean, you seem a little mental, but pills and healthcare can fix it -"

"It's because I know  _ what  _ you are!" The beastly woman declares, getting the attention of the people around them. "I know - The whole world knows that you are a monster! A hideous creature from Hell!"

Feliciano stands up as people start to gather around, grabbing his things and slowly backing away from the lady.

"I'm sorry," Feliciano repeatedly says, turning his heels to run. "I'm really sorry, but I have no clue what you are talking about!"

Before he could sprint off, Feliciano heard one last thing from the self-righteous woman's lips.

  
"You are that immortal that lived here for  _ centuries _ !"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a side project of mine. My project will work on my webcomic.
> 
> If you are interested in other art works of mine, my DA account is: https://www.deviantart.com/almintoms
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	2. South Europe - 2

_ How? How did she know? _ The question wonders in Feliciano's mind as the man dashes back to his home. _ Was there a leak? I need to tell my boss. I need to tell this to _ everyone _ ! _

He slams front door open and run to his bedroom. He left his phone on his bedside table, thinking he didn't need the device for his day off. Lies! Of all days, Feliciano needed the device more than ever! However, when he opens his phone, he's shocked to see dozens of messages and missed phone calls from his family and friends.

Six messages and a phone call from his boss.

Eighty messages and thirteen calls from Romano.

Fifty-three messages and one call from Japan. 

Twenty-four messages from Germany.

And a single message from America. 

_ Everyone, this is a cope-and-paste message. Do not reply for at least twenty-four hours after this message has been sent. _

_ On February 21, there was an unsanctioned release of documents about the existence of personified nations by an independent group in my government. It has spread throughout the internet and there is nothing I can do about it for now. However, I highly encouraged for every nation receiving this message to temporarily move to a safer location - whether your current location was on the documents or not - until we can figure out what to do. _

_ Keep a low profile. Do not do what is unnecessary. Do not tell anyone - including other nations - about your location. Help each other out if possible. _

_ Just be safe everyone. _

_ -Alfred F. Jones _

Feliciano's hands are trembling. How can this happen? Of all of the years he has been alive, this has never happened before! Sure, there will be people here and there to discover the secret, but when they tell the secret to others, no one believe them as there is no proof to back up their claim! However, there is proof of their existence in the form of_ official government documents _ floating around the internet where everyone can see it! He was panting, unable to hold back the nagging feeling that was building up in his throat. Tears are forming in the corners of his eyes. Their biggest secret - no, the biggest secret in history was just released to the public. Everyone knows now. From grandparents to their grandchildren, everyone just knows!

What should he do now? Should he call his brother? Japan? Germany? He was frozen in fear as he sits on his bed. He couldn't feel anything other than his painful breathing as he stares blankly at the dust particles floating in the air. 

What to do? What to do? _ What to do? _

_ Buzz! Buzz! _

The phone vibrates in Feliciano's tight grip. He was reeled back to reality by the sensation as he answers the call, unsure of the caller.

"_ Ciao? _" He greets nervously.

"YOU ASSHOLE BROTHER OF MINE!" a familiar voice screams. "WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU, VENEZIANO?! I'M BEING - FUCK OFF!"

He could hear gunshots and glass shattering in the background of the call as his brother gasps.

"Romano!" Feliciano yells, gripping the phone even tighter. "Are you okay!?"

He could his brother's pants with the muffed tones of footsteps. There's no doubt in his mind that Romano just got shot, but he's worried about blood loss. While nations cannot die by a sword or a gun, they can be immobilized for a short time by massive blood loss.

"Romano, please!" Feliciano begs. "Just say something!"

"I -" his brother starts, breathing heavily between his words. "I'm fine. It's just a flesh wound. That's all."

"What happened?" North Italy asks, worried. 

"There's currently a fuckin' riot outside _ Palazzo Montecitorio _ with our names on it!"

Feliciano, still numb to everything that just happened, asks. "Are you sure the riot is for us?" 

"Well geez!" Romano sarcastically declares. "When a bunch of screaming people hold up signs saying 'immortal fascists must die!' while throwing rocks and bullets and shit, you just assumed, y'know!"

"But we're not fascists anymore!" Feliciano defends. "We were practically done with that after World War II!" 

"Try explaining that to the rioters then, idiot!"

Feliciano stands in silence, not knowing how to respond to that. 

"Look, just pack our bags. We're heading to a hotel after I -" 

_ BOOM! Click! _

_ "You call cannot be reached. Please call again later." _

_ Click! _

"_ Dio mio _ . . ." Feliciano breathes, his hand over his mouth. It's much worse than he expected. 

He needs to start packing bags _ right now. _ With a swing of his legs, he gets up from the bed and starts packing. After moving from places to places for many years, Feliciano packed everything he needed in a relatively short amount of time. Suits to shirts and jeans, he fits the needed items in two suitcases made for traveling (primally, for World Meetings). However, his brother isn't here yet, which caused him to wait for him until the sun drips into the horizon. 

He prayed on the Holy Virgin's name for his brother's safe return, rosary beads in hand. But no amount of praying could bring his brother back any faster.

Feliciano didn't understand why did this happen or how everyone else is doing. He can't call or text his brother, Japan, Germany, France, Miss Hungary, or even Spain, and Spain _ always _ picks up his calls. He tried calling numbers that belong to people he doesn't normally associate with, like England and Russia.

But no one answers. 

He never felt so alone in ages, and it's scaring him.

"Come on," he begs in his dark living room, holding his phone up over his head as if it were a prayer.

"Please pick me up, Mr. Austria . . ."

Rosary beads tangle and weave around his tight fingers. His heartbeats sync with every ring from his phone.

_ Click! _

_ "I'm sorry, but your -" _

_ Click! _

That's his last contact. No one is picking him up. What's going on with everyone else? Feliciano sniffs, tears starting to fall down his cheeks. He can’t help it but to openly sobs until his mouth becomes dry. He is so worried. What should he do? _ What should he do?! _

He gasps and chokes back his tears with snot running down his nose, wiping them away with his already wet sheaves before being quickly replaced with new ones. He _ needs _to know what's going on. What's going to happen to him?

So, in a desperate attempt, he made a Twitter account. 

Feliciano wasn't thinking straight, but he heard countless times from America that he needs to make a Twitter to "keep up with the times, yo" and "connect with the world, dude!" While he doesn't disapprove of constantly developing technology, Feliciano never felt the need to be involved with social media of any kind. Until now.

He just needs to get in contact with someone. Anyone at this point. 

  
  


**North Italy **@Feliciano_Vargas

I need help.

**2 ** likes **8 **retweets

|

**North Italy **@Feliciano_Vargas

I can't call anyone of you guys and I'm so worried. 

| 

**North Italy **@Feliciano_Vargas

Please help me!

  


It hasn't been a minute when his phone blow up with messages and retweets. His phone buzzes with a fury that he never knew technology can do. In a panicked position, he taps his screen until he turns off the notifications off. He sighs a breath of relief and he opens up the app to see if anyone he knows tweet about him. 

  
  


**BuzztheArsehold **@Wassupbs

**@Feliciano_Vargas** Look another fake account.

We already got a million of these in one day. #nationsrevealed

**2.8k ** likes **1.2k **retweets

|

**CherryBerri** @Saraberry

**@Wassupbs **it kinda reminds me of those args.

It starts like asking for help before it goes downhill ya know

|

**dafactmachine **@FactMachine

**@Wassupbs @Feliciano_Vargas @Saraberry **I don't know.

Who starts a args less than a day after

we realized personified countries was a real thing. 

I

**BuzztheArsehold **@Wassupbs

**@FactMachine @Feliciano_Vargas**

Crazy people, dude! Like super crazy attention-seeking people!

Hell, people already declaring themselves as nations less than a dayt!

|

**BuzztheArsehold **@Wassupbs

**@FactMachine @Feliciano_Vargas**

Like that spiky blonde guy in Denmark!

Saying he is Denmark the personification

even when everyone knew it was a lie!

| 

**CherryBerri** @Saraberry

**@FactMachine @Wassupbs @Feliciano_Vargas**

Well maybe, if we have a picture of the user,

then maybe he could be the real deal. 

|

**CherryBerri** @Saraberry

**@FactMachine @Wassupbs @Feliciano_Vargas**

we have a picture of what the

Italy personification looks like from ww2.

If he's immortal and unaging then

his appearance now wouldn't be any different, right?

  


“Ve . . .” Feliciano slips. A picture? If a picture is what they need in order to help him, then they will get that picture. He swipes his phone into camera mode and aim it directly to his face. When he presses the red button, he didn’t know the flash was on. A bright light blinds the man and causes him to see stars seconds after its use. He blinks rapidly the stars out before looking at the picture he just taken. Ah! It looks great and clear! It would be perfect for Twitter! Feliciano taps on his phone with hope filling his veins. 

**North Italy **@Feliciano_Vargas

Many people are asking to show my face, so here it is!

**435 ** likes **1k **retweets

|

**North Italy **@Feliciano_Vargas

Can anyone help me now?!?!

  


He waits for a few minutes, seeing silent notifications pop up from left and right on his IPhone screen. Before he is done reading the first reply, another ten shows up to overwhelm the Italian. The replies ranged from demanding questions like “Is this picture really the Italy Personification?” and “What’s with the curl on the side of your head?” to ridiculous statements like “He’s so damn cute! Like a shocked kitten! OwO” and “I wanna ride him.” His cheeks brighten every time he read such lewd comments. Who knew that people would be so open about their sex lives on the internet? However, he knew this was the internet where people can remain anonymous enough to share private information.

Just as he finished reading “He looks like a Roman! Do you think he was the Roman Empire at one point?”, Feliciano realized that he shouldn’t look at Twitter for help and calls it quits. He exits out of the app and shoves the phone into his pockets.

“Where’s Romano?” Feliciano whispers, curling his legs again his body as he moved to the farthest corner of his leather couch. “Is he still at _ Palazzo Montecitorio _?”

It has been hours since his brother calls him. He tried to watch the news on TV to inform himself about the situation at Montecitorio, but with moving pictures of so many people with flaming fury plastered on their faces and weapons - bats, rocks, guns, anything - in hand while the Italian police tried to push back the riot from the government building with body shields and water cannons, he couldn’t do it. He can’t bear to think that his brother was in dangerous conditions, much less, watch the situation unfolds before him. He turns that TV off just as fast as he turned it on. This whole situation is like a bad movie, but you can’t simply turn it off and never pick it up again.

In the dark silence of the room, Feliciano’s mind wanders. Did he his brother get out? Was he safe? Was the rest of his family and friends safe too? They are a million times tougher than him, but he can’t help but to worry over their well-being. If the situation at Palazzo Montecitorio was this intense, than what are the other’s riots like? Would they lived through this?

Feliciano shakes his head.

Of course, they will live through this! Other nations had riots much harsher than the riot at Montecitorio! They have to live through this. They_ must _live through this. A riot can’t take a nation down like that! Right?

_ Knock! Knock! Knock! _

The harsh noise cuts though his pessimistic thoughts. “Romano?” Feliciano calls out, jumping from the couch and running towards the front door. “Brother, where were you? I was so -”

As he opens the door, he sees four tall men in suits and with a handgun on each of the men’s sides. Their faces naturally curl into sharp scowls. An eyepiece was noticeably places in their right ear as a black SUV - a large luxury in Italy - stands behind the men. Feliciano can’t help but to feel inferior by the men towering over him. 

“Are you Feliciano Vargas?” one of the men - in a growl-like voice - asks. 

He nods, unable to speak in front of such intimidating men and gripping the door in case he needed to slam it. 

  
“Good,” another man spokes. “We are with the _ AISE _. We will be in charge of your relocation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the quality of the pictures! I'm not so used to drawing short hair!
> 
> Nevertheless, I hope you guys like this chapter!
> 
> Again, if you are interested in any other of my artwork: my DA account is: https://www.deviantart.com/almintoms


	3. South Europe - 3

Despite Italy’s habit of changing his intelligence agency every few decades, his AISE does a similar job as America’s CIA or England’s MI6, which includes preserving the secret of personified nations from the public. However, the plan has changed due to this morning's incident - and that continuous riot on his government building too - and now, these four agents are transporting the North Italy Personification to a more secure location. The car ride was simple enough, but Feliciano was squeezed between two large men. He can’t help but to feel like a small child that was crammed into the backseat for a road trip. It was uncomfortable, tight, and hot from the two men’s body heat.

But at least it’s much more bearable than the silence.

The silence is tearing his unsimulated ears open. The only notable noises he can recognize is the sound of the tires moving long the smooth concrete road. But besides that, there’s nothing. He can’t even hear the breathing from the men besides him. It’s like calling a bad omen to him. Like as if red-eyed demons could come around the corners and rip his chest open. He stares forward, seeing the other two agents driving or texting someone in their respective seats.

“Where are we going?” Feliciano asks out loud, cutting through the heavy silence. 

The two men beside him looks down at the personification with a curious stare. 

“I - I’m sorry,” he apologizes, his hands shaking in anxiety. “But I need to know where I’m going.”

A moment passes before the texting agent answers. 

“You’re going to the AISE headquarters,” he replies. “It’s where you are going to be the safest at.”

“But it’s a few blocks near Montecitorio,” Feliciano states, causing the stares of the agents to sharpen. “Is the -”

“The riot is no where close to the headquarters. We got it secured with the police. You’re fine.”

Feliciano wants to speak more, but he can’t. He didn’t realize this before, but he’s so tried. He skipped his 3 o’clock siesta due to the day’s events. His brain feels so foggy and slow and his body is sore. There’s no doubt that there will be a bed waiting for him at the headquarters, but he feels like he needs to be awake for a little bit longer. 

He’s not going to sleep until he knows Romano is safe and away from the riot.

As the car comes closer to the headquarters, Feliciano starts seeing spray painted art on chipping walls that the car quickly drives by. The streets were empty from cars and people that a pin drop will echo far into the next block. The darkness of the night that shrouded the streets only made the area more questionable and untrustworthy. 

“Ve . . .” Feliciano whispers to himself. “It’s like Romano’s place. So scary at night . . .”

Feliciano didn’t realized that he said something out loud until he look back the agents’ silent glares. He mutters an apology to them, even though he knows deep in his subconscious of his people, they didn’t meant to be intimidating. 

As a tall brick building came into view, he starts to feel goosebumps forming on the back of his neck. Feliciano came to this building many times over the years, but knowing that he will be recognized as the embodiment of this country when walking in, it will be a challenge for not run away from this.

“We’ll handle the bags,” the driver unbuckles his seatbelt. “Just get inside. We’ll give your a room soon enough.”

Feliciano nods again. At this point, he wants to ask if his brother was still at Montecitorio, but he’s too scared to ask. He didn’t want them to glare at him again. Especially when they know _what_ he is. As they walked inside, Feliciano can see that everything was the same as he last visited in 2007. It’s still a large space with elevators, stairs, the works. An aging woman behind a desk and the smell of sweat coming around the corners. Everything he remembered from his last visit.

“Stay here with the personification, Carlos,” the driver says to the greying agent. “We’ll come back when the room is secured.”

The other agents calls for an elevator, leaving a seemingly young man with an aging elder alone. 

“So,” Carlos turns to the personification, combing his sliver-like hair with his fingers. “Should we take a seat?”

“_ Si _ . . .” Feliciano agrees. Admittedly, he is pretty sure he sat on those same seats in the 1960s and didn’t want to even _ touch _ them again, but he didn’t want to be rude to one of his agents. They sit on the provided crouches, feeling every bump formed since 1968. 

Feliciano stutters, thinking about all of the people that sits here over the years and what they have done to this poor piece of furniture. 

"Hey," a rough voice of the agent cuts through his disturbing thoughts. "If you're okay with it, I have a question for you."

Feliciano turns to the agent, gladly taking his mind away from the crouch. 

"Okay, sure," he answers. "What is it?"

"So . . ." Carlos starts, his frown emphasized though the ceases of his wrinkles. "When I heard that personified nations was a thing, I thought of someone a little," he looks down on the shorter man, "_ older _ . Like a bearded man with white hair and baggy skin and stuff. But," he moves his arms around, trying to convey the message, "But you look _ younger _ than my grandchildren."

"_ Si _ ," Feliciano nods. He understood for a long time that he looks like he just got out of his late teens. Especially when older looking men in his government had looked down on him because they thought he was an intern or a low ranking official in the Italian system. Feliciano wonders that they are thinking about this situation now. Anyways, he has no wrinkles or dark circles and only has brown thick hair and soft scarless skin. No signs to suspect that he was over _ 2000 years old _ at this point.

"And -" the agent tries to articulate. "Just - How can you look so young? Aren’t you ancient?"

Feliciano wonders about this question. To humans, he is an ancient person with being born a little before Christ, but to other countries (including himself), he's not. He doesn't feel ancient. He feels young as he was a thousand years ago. 

Feliciano huffs, getting frustrated over the question. He doesn't know for sure. He guess time just works differently for him than for humans.

"I think . . ." he starts. "That I'm still pretty young. I guess?"

"You guess?" Carlos asks, skeptical. 

"Si," Feliciano confirms. "I guess"

Carlos sighs, unsatisfied with the answer, and turns away from the personification. For the rest of the time Feliciano spent with him, it was an awkward silence. It was not the same silence as the car, but it was still uncomfortable. It’s like a bubble of judgement coming from the elder - no wait, Feliciano is the actual elder in the situation. It’s “coming from this younger man”, isn’t it? Anyways, this man isn’t even looking at Feliciano. He was avoiding putting his gaze of the nation. Judgmental despite being so quiet. 

His saving grace is when the agents come back, saying that there's a room set up for him and his brother. Feliciano thanks the men before following them to the room. 

* * *

The room was meant to be shared among twenty-four agents. Bunk beds among bunk beds, Feliciano wonders why there so many beds here in the first place. Who was guy to think of this?

"I'm sorry if it's not comfortable," the agent says. "It's the best we can do." 

"No, no," Feliciano waves. "It's fine. I just wonder why there's so many bed here in the first place!"

"It's because a high ranking official said to put these beds here in 1952," Carlos replies. 

"Oh."

He remembers now. He was the one who said that. In 1952, Feliciano just wanted a place where agents and himself can take a siesta before going back to work, and he entirely forgot about it after a few years. Turns out a regular bed is much more comfortable than mass produced messes.

"Anyways, this will be your stay for a few weeks," the agent explain. "We are relocating to Naples, but we have to find you a house first.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Feliciano runs his hands along the bed sheets. “Just thank you for helping me. I’m truly grateful for all you guys did for me.”

“It’s no problem,” the same agent nods. “But to be honest, your existence is quite shocking.”

Feliciano looks up from the sheet, staring at the agents who gathered near the entrance. 

“It’s just something no one expected,” another agent states. “It seems like this morning started out normal as usual.”

“Yeah . . .” Feliciano says dryly. “I thought of that too.”

With that, the agents left the personification to his own accord. The bed isn’t as bad or lumpy as he expected, but it’s definitely not homely as he wanted it to be with his blankets being knitted by Miss Hungary and his shelves being filled with little knick-knacks he had collected over the years. _ I miss my home . . . _ Feliciano thought, laying on the bottom of a bunk bed. He was not trying to go to sleep yet. He still got a million things running through his mind, like his friends, his family, and even some government officials he was close with. What are they thinking about this situation? Were they scared just like him? Did they know what to do unlike him? Where’s Romano? He can't possibly still be at that building. If so, the riot needs to die down already. Feliciano turns on his bed. He would never have expected Italians have this kind of energy to organize a riot in a short amount of time. It has literally been less than a day, and one of his government buildings have been burned down.

Feliciano Vargas - otherwise known as Italia Veneziano or North Italy - just doesn’t know what to do next.

_ Cough! Cough! Splat! _

“Huh?” Feliciano sits up. 

_ Gag! Gasp! Splat! _

“F . . . Fuck . . .” A rough cough soon the curse. 

Feliciano hear it from the bathroom in the corner. He didn’t know someone was with him. Why didn’t the agents say anything about this?

“Are you okay?" he calls out. “Do you need help -”

“V - Veneziano?”

As he heard his nation name, he gasps. 

“Romano!” He jumps off the bed and runs towards the bathroom. “You were here?! I’m so glad -”

Just as he opens the door, Feliciano’s heart drops to his stomach.

His older brother was caked in his own blood. Deep oozing wounds covered his entire body as his blood drips down, forming a small pool on the tile floors. The suit he was wearing this morning was nothing of a few cloths that hangs off his shoulders and his long dress pants was just tore shorts now. His brother’s dark hair was soaked in layers of dirt, blood, and other items Feliciano couldn’t figure out. The injured man coughs until ribbons of red fall from his mouth. 

Feliciano didn’t know what to say or do other than look at the horrible condition his brother was in. 

“ . . . How?” He chokes out, falling to his knees. “Everything seems fine this morning. But how did this happen?” Feliciano shakily stares back at Romano’s bruised and wounded eyes. Those same eyes were so swollen that they were almost closed shut and couldn’t be used to see any light at all. 

Feliciano’s numbness and nerves fade away as a sob came from the bottom of his throat. Finally, hours after the initial shock, he starts to truly grieve over the loss of their secrecy. The loss of the world’s safety.

  
“_What just happened? _” He asks, having no answer in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just thank you for reading this. I have gotten a lot of comment, and than you so much for them. They are really, really sweet and thank you! 
> 
> I also received a comment, wanting to see my webcomic. So I'll put in a link just for the people who want to see it.
> 
> Webcomic: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/a-goddess-handbook/list?title_no=306030  
DA Account: https://www.deviantart.com/almintoms
> 
> Once again, thank you for reading! Have a nice day!


	4. East Asia - 1

It has been over forty-eight hours after the documents have been released, and it seems like the world has gone to Hell. 

Across the world, several houses of different Nation Personifications had been destroyed, which includes Germany, Romania, Somalia, Ghana, France, Croatia, Bulgaria, Poland, and more. And if the humans can’t find their houses, they will go after the building that was important to the nation. The rest of British army had to come to Buckingham Palace when the police and red coated soldiers couldn’t handle the rioters who are threatening to bust in there. England was hiding in the palace’s panic room with the Queen and her family while the riot was active. He tightly grips a rifle in hand, preparing to shoot any threats in order to protect the monarchs. 

The eastern side of the world isn’t doing any better.

To best describe it, it’s different for many. China is surprisingly doing well as his house was in the middle of nowhere, and it would be difficult to travel to due to natural barriers like mountains and forests. However, for personifications with a high popularity density, like Hong Kong, they have to be immediately relocated to a different area for their own personal safety. Taiwan and Indonesia just had a riot situation. Russia . . . Well, everyone is scared of Russia and stayed away from him. When rioters come to his house, they all run towards the hill when they saw the personification breaking - no, _ exploding _ a man’s skull with a pipe, and he did this while smiling with childlike innocence. Russia then decided to make a meme about it and post it on Twitter. The bloodied corpse still haven’t been taken down by the mods yet. 

Luckily, for some nations, the documents didn’t had their pictures, the address, names, or any of their private information. Therefore, they have options. They can relocate to a safer area or stay where they are at right now as they were not in immediate danger yet.

For Im Yong Soo - the personification of South Korea - he had chosen the latter. For the last two days, he had been struck in his luxury apartment with no connection to the outside world other than his phone, his computer, and all his online subscriptions of his k-dramas. His boss told him explicitly to stay in his apartment until something can be worked out with his people.

To be completely honest, Yong Soo felt that his people wouldn’t be so violent with him as with other countries, mainly because they had some time to cool down before doing something irrational. However, he feels if he were to do a press conference to confirm his existence, his boss would want him to be more “Korean.” He wants Yong Soo to be a little more mature, much less perverted, wear an accurately made _ hanbok _ instead of his favorite custom made hanbok he had since 1918, and pick a different birthday or else he would get _ banned _ from South Korea. 

. . . Welp! There’s always North Korea he can bother! That twin of his is such a hermit and need to come out once in awhile! He needs to eat something other than_ kimchi _and rice and propaganda films.

“Aiya . . .” China mutters over the phone on speaker mode. “Japan hasn't called you yet? Where is he?”

“I don’t know,_ Hyeong _,” Yong Soo tosses the eggs in his pan, pushing the edges to form a roll. “I had tried calling him a brunch times, but he’s not picking up.”

“I’m starting to get worried. This isn’t like him, aru.”

Yong Soo turns off his stove and picks up the phone next to it. 

“China, just please relax,” he states. “I’m sure Japan is fine. Those documents said nothing about his address and there’s no news report about him. Well, if you don’t count the opinion pieces about him. A bunch of Koreans had a lot to say about him.”

China dryly chuckles. “Yeah,” he replies. “I have Hong Kong at my place, and Taiwan and Macau is coming over soon, aru.”

“Hong Kong? Did he put up a fight or what?” Yong Soo asks, genuinely confused. “I mean, Hong Kong and you is having thing, right? Like he had a few large protests against you within the last few years, hyeong.”

He could hear China frowning over the phone.

“Korea!” China hisses. “This isn’t the time to discuss about politics. The whole entire world knows about our existence and half of the world is on _ fire _ because of it!” He takes a deep breath, calming down his sudden burst of rage. “Sorry, it’s just been a long day, aru.”

Yong Soo sighs along with his brother, leaning back on his counter. He rubs his sore temples to comfort his tighten nerves. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “It has been crazy since the reveal. My boss is even more strict with me than usual.”

“Anyways,” China clears his throat. “If you ever need to relocate, I can give you a room here if you want. My place is the safest, you know.”

“No thank you!” Yong Soo claims. “It took me years to get a place of my own! The Korean people gotta get conquer again before I’m going to live with someone!”

“Okay,” China nods, understanding Yong Soo’s history with imperialistic nations. “Just . . . Just _ please _be safe and don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t,” Yong Soo checks on his rolled omelette. 

“That sounds like you will.”

“Hyeong! Please!” the Korean slides his omelette onto a plate. “My people have other things to worry about other than an immortal teenager that embodied the Republic of Korea.”

“Well if that teen is you, I would be _ really _concerned.”

* * *

South Korea hangs up on him. Wang Yao - the personification of China - is getting too old for childish nations, like this Korean kid. Yao sighs, putting his phone of his kitchen table and laying his aching head on it. He thinks all of his four to five thousand years of history is finally taking a toll on his health. Within the last few days, so much had happened to him despite living in a remote area where the nearest city is a hundred kilometers away. His boss first told him to stay where he was at while continuing his normal workload via email. Not to mention, he has to prepare rooms for his younger siblings (Hong Kong, Taiwan, Macau, Japan, and a few more rooms were prepared just in case if any other Asian nations want to stay over). However, despite his attempts in calling him, Japan isn’t not picking up his phone calls regardless of whoever is calling him. Yao knew out of all Asian nations, Japan would be targeted the most due to his involvement in World War II, and Yao can see it. 

Across the uncensored internet (which he can access with his personal VPN), Yao can see the immediate reactions of the people around the world. Several American news stations had called out Japan’s direct involvement with the planning of the Pearl Harbor attack as described in the documents. Even his own media is tearing his brother apart with Japan’s unspeakable acts against Yao’s people during World War II. To say he was worried about his younger brother is the biggest understatement in the world.

Yao’s head hurts badly. His people are currently raging against the inside of his head. Countless - and he means _ countless _ \- voices echoing an overlapping with each other inside of his skull. 

There’s a middle aged woman in her Beijing apartment calling him a demon to her husband and two kids. There’s a college student in Shanghai reading the latest conspiracy theory on his nation and his siblings online. There is a modest rice farmer in the middle of nowhere, having no clue about the latest discovery and wondering which vegetable side he wants for his early evening dinner. One-point-three billion voices and growing, each having their own opinions and worries. He can feel their hate, love, pride, and anxiety all at once, but it’s nothing that he couldn’t deal with.

He had dealt with these feelings before.

“Oi China!” Yao feels a jab on the side of his head. “Are you finally dead? Does that mean I can be independent now without you screwing up everything?”

“As if!” Yao pushes himself up and glares at the Cantonese teen. “What do you want, Hong Kong? It’d better be important.”

“I’m hungry. When’s dinner?” 

Just as Hong Kong asks, Yao slams his head on the table again, ignoring his immature brother’s comment. _ Seriously, Hong Kong? _ The elder thought. _ What’s with you and your appetite lately? Are you going through a growth phase too? Aiya! This better not turn into another obsession like with your fashion habits or your pain-in-the-arse protests. _

“Also, your boss is on the phone,” Hong Kong casually states, picking the dirt out of his nails. "You know, the home phone that no one has anymore because everyone have mobile phone instead."

“_ Shit! _” Yao jumps out from his chair and dashes towards his living room, cursing his little brother out.

“Well I guess I can make some _ dim sum _,” the teen yawns, not bothered by Yao’s comments. “I’m actually quite hungry.”

As Yao swipes his phone off from his living room table, he was relieved to see that his boss hasn’t hang up yet. “Aiya!” he puts the phone against his ear. “I’m so, _ so _sorry about that. My younger brother doesn’t know how to respect authority yet, aru.”

A moment of silence passes before the man on the other side speaks. “Oh,” he starts. “That’s Hong Kong? He’s here already?”

“Yes sir,” Yao sits on the sofa, preparing for a long, painful lecture. “But please, _ please _, for one day, let’s not bring up any one of his protests, aru. We have other things to worry about, sir.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Yao can hear papers shuffling in the background. “So, have you heard about Mongolia?”

“Sorry?”

“He just had a press conference to explain the situation with the personified nations and whatnot.”

“Seriously?” Yao blinks, surprised at the homeland of one of his most infamous leaders. “That’s . . . kinda unlike him though.”  


“And he also brought a giant bear to the conference. Apparently he had skinned it dead in front of a bunch of reporters while taking questions.”

“Ah . . .” 

Now, that’s the Mongolia he knows.

The bloodlusted Mongolia who climbed over his Great Wall several times and used many fear tactics to put him into submission, and the same Mongolia who always “jokes” that he would make Yao his bride if he ever managed to kidnap him at night. Therefore, when he had the Mongols as his boss, Yao always slept with a unshelved blade and had to use it on occasion, especially on a braided psychopath on horseback. 

“Yao,” his boss calls his name. “I think we should follow his lead.”

“I’m not going to marrying him, aru,” the nation states, lost in his own thoughts. 

“What?”

“Sorry, aru,” Yao snaps out of his thoughts about his former roommate and focuses on his boss’ words. “What should we do, sir?”

“I want you do a press conference, Yao.”

“A press conference?” Yao combs his ponytail between his fingers, hesitated. “I don’t know about that, aru. I’m not the most sociable nation after all.”

“Regardless, I think it would be good PR if we have a conference at least once,” His boss points out. “You’re the oldest nations to ever live, Yao. The oldest!” Yao sighs quietly, leading back of his sofa and preparing for another long lecture. “You have outlived the other ancients. Rome, Ancient Greece, and all of those nations. You - as an ancient superpower - are the only one that survived this long. You should be happy that you are going to be acknowledged for the first time in history. This would really help -” 

The nation put the phone on speaker mode and lay it on the table next to him. As his boss rattles off about his greatness as an “Ancient Nation” and how this PR event would benefit him, Yao leans back in his seat and wonders how long until the Heavens throw these people out. _ When this mandate from the gods is over, _ he thought, irritated from the day’s events. _ You’ll just be a footnote in the books, condescending fool. A footnote just like the others before. _

“- Not to mention, you’re a lovely-looking man,” his boss continues. “You have the knowledge and wisdom of an elder, but have the beauty of youth. You are physically nineteen years old and pretty like a girl! You’re practically a child. People will love you and your beauty, Yao! You must -”

“Fine! Fine!” Yao gives in. “I’ll do _ one _press conference, aru! Just one to satisfied the stupid media, sir!”

“Good,” he can hear his boss’ sour smile through the speakers. “We’ll arrange it to the nearest date as possible. I’ll book you a plane ticket to Beijing in the meanwhile, Yao.”

“Okay,” Yao sighs deeply.

“Okay, bye.”

_ Click! _

As the phone call ended, Yao leads back, his hands covering his face, as he breathes another tried sigh.

For many years of his life, Yao always felt so condescended by many of his bosses. It doesn’t matter if they were peaceful or warlike, smart or dumb, male or female, spoiled or hardworking, have the newest or oldest political ideology, Yao always have bosses who treat him as a child. Admittedly, Yao does have childlike features, such as a small figure, pale baby-like skin, an obsession with cute animals and oversized clothing, and a voice that sounds like a woman trying to imitate a man. He can understand if Yao meet his boss the first time and is confused about his appearance and his actual age, but when he meets them just about everyday and still calls him “Yao” with no honorable title, it can be annoying at times. And this boss is no different.

For god’s sake, Yao is more willing to build another terracotta army and dig rivers of mercury again rather than have one more boss that treats him like a toddler.

“Just wait,” he ressures himself. “Just wait until the mandate is over. The people will get angry and overthrow this era. Just wait, aru.”

“By the way,” Hong Kong speaks behind his brother, startling him. “If you ever stop wondering when the Mandate of Heaven is over, I can maybe share some dim sum with you.”

“Dim Sum?” Yao collects himself. “I have been only talking to my boss for a half an hour, aru! How did you make dim sum so quickly?”

“I’m from Hong Kong, fool,” the teen stares blankly at the elder. “I would get impatient if a train ride is even a minute late. So I had developed technology to make food more fun and faster to make.”

“Like what kind of technology are you even talking about?” Yao stands up and walks to the kitchen. “It can’t be -”

Yao stands in silence as he see a . . . Flaming ferris wheel?

That helds the baskets of dim sum? And it was slightly burning his table while it spins with its flames.

  
  
“It both cooks and entertains you, Yao,” Hong Kong comments.

“Are you going to pay for my table?” Yao breathes deeply again, trying to not get angry at the teen. 

“Nope.”

  
If this pattern of stress keeps up, it’s going to be a long year for the old man.

  


* * *

“Done!” Yong Soo lays the last plate on his table, smiling at the beautiful foods he just made. Eggs of all kinds, colorful vegetables, steaming meat, well-aged kimchi, tubs of _ gochujang _, the works. 

Now, a normal person would assume that it was made for a family of five, but it was meant for the personification to eat. Everything from the rice in the stone pot to the meat that sizzles in its own juices and sauce, Im Yong Soo is going to eat_ all _ of that. People think America eats too much with his low quality fast food chains, but _ mukbangs _originated in Korea, da-ze!

“Da-ze!” Yong Soo says out of habit. However, it’s mildly depressing to eat alone. Years ago, he used to eat meals with his twin brother, North Korea, but they had their differences and decided to split. However, that’s what his mukbangs for. It makes meals much less lonely!

“So do I wanna eat with the pretty boy?” Yong Soo voices, searching for active livestreams on his laptop. “Or that Japanese girl with that expanded stomach thing? . . . I’ll go for the pretty boy for today.”

_ Knock! Knock! _

“Argh!” Yong Soo stomps his foot. Just as he was about to click on the livestream, some asshole have to interrupt. 

“It’s probably one of those government officials again,” he marches to his front door, irritated. As expected, government workers have been coming into his apartment for the past few days, checking if the personification is still alive and haven’t escape from his lair. However, Even if it was expected, what irritates him is that they come at the oddest of times, like - in this case - when he was about to eat.

_ Knock! Knock! Knock! _

“I’m comin’!” he yells back, pushing back the door. “What do you guys want -”

“_ Konichiwa, Korea-kun, _” he says with a calming demeanor. “Can I stay with you for a few days?”

Oh. So this is where Japan is relocating to._ In Korea’s home again. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I hope this doesn't get too political. I wanna be as respectful as possible. If I did something wrong, please tell me about it and educated me about it. I'm completely open to be inform about world events about all side of the political spectrum. Just please be respectful in your response.
> 
> Anyways, I love the Asian countries in Hetalia. This is probably due to me being Asian, but I still love them. I think all of them are lovely.
> 
> HOWEVER! This is where the history part of this fanfic comes forward. I'm aware of Japan war crimes against Korea and I'll be respectful as possible. I will put on warnings about anything I think would be graphic, but I may miss something. If I did, tell me and I'll add warning at the beginning of the chapter.
> 
> About the drawings: Japan is so hard to draw. He had a defined design that is easy to mess up. Like China is easier and I have problems drawing hairlines. I have to give props to the creator of Hetalia for being such a good artist. I have respect for you.
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading this chapter.
> 
> My DA Account is: https://www.deviantart.com/almintoms  
My webcomic is at: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/a-goddess-handbook/list?title_no=306030


	5. East Asia - 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Suggestions of abuse and abusive relationships. Please proceed with caution when reading.

Korea had to let Japan inside of his home again. What’s he supposed to do? Have an argument outside of his apartment while the neighbors can see it and may post it on the internet? At this point of time, when exposing your address can lead to the destruction of your home, Yong Soo can’t afford such risk to his own safety. 

“What do you want, Japan?” Yong Soo glares at the man, who was setting down his bags nonchalantly. “Why didn’t you go to America’s place? You lived up his asshole already. Why can’t you go to his home then?”

“America-san is unable to pick up any of his calls,” Japan explains calmly to the Korean. 

“And we were having the same problem with your calls too, bastard,” Yong Soo hisses quietly, but however Japan still heard it. “Didn’t you know that China has been worrying over you since the document release? He had called you literally  _ dozens  _ of times already!”

“I was unable to pick up any of China’s or your calls because of my situation,” Japan sits down on Yong Soo’s couch, loosening his suit tie.

“You see, I had to immediately relocated without planning ahead first. I went home, pack up, call a few people, before taking a plane to here. I haven’t had time to call you guys back.”

“Seriously, Japan?” Yong Soo sits next to the man. “It has been two days. You could have called China then! What actually happened between those hours after you landed here and before you invaded my home? _ Again _ .”

The Japanese man swallows dryly, his dull eyes seemingly darken. “Have you seen the documents yet?” he asks.

Yong Soo shakes his head. “I had scanned through my stuff only and no one elses. Why?”

Japan turns towards his brother, staring directly in his eyes. His skin was paler than before he brought up the topic, white and ghostly. 

“Those documents,” Japan starts, wavering. “They had contained  _ hundreds  _ of pages of my - my friend’s -  _ Captures  _ during World War II _ . _ I haven’t been able to think straight, knowing those  _ things  _ were out there.” 

As the world “Captures” slips from his lips, Yong Soo’s heart dives deep into his stomach. The Captures of the Axis Powers - Germany, Italy, and Japan - referred to when the Allied Forces had forced the nations to surrender during World War II and put them into secretive trials to get them punished for their individual war crimes, declaring all three as Class A war criminals. Yong Soo remembers this very well. He was there at the trials, standing as a witness on Japan’s abuses against his people. He remembers showing the judge his bruises and scars inflicted by Japan’s soldiers as proof of abuse, and Japan denying the cause of the bruises, saying it was all “self-inflicted.”

“S-So that’s why there’s a lot more opinion pieces about World War II than normal,” Yong Soo mutters, still shocked by the news. “Damn . . .”

“I know,” Japan comments. “It had reopen in some old wounds between nations - I mean, in terms of our people getting angry.”

Yong Soo have no words to describe the multiple feelings running through him. Was he angry? Scared? Or just numb to everything that just happened? It is a well-known fact among nations that Korea as a whole had a rough past, especially within the past few decades, and Japan was directly involved with it. He had to deal with being caught up in many foreign wars with Japan, China, and other Europeans who decided to jump in. He had to deal with being forced to become more “Japanese” just so Japan can have more control over his people. Hell, he’s technically still at war with his twin up north. He still had to force young men to go into military service just in case of another invasion from his brother. 

Sure, he has gotten a hell of a lot better after World War II. He doesn’t have to worry about his men and women becoming fodder for Japanese soldiers or worried about speaking his own language in front of the wrong people. While he wasn’t a nervous mess anymore, Yong Soo still have many problems with Japan. After all, many Japanese war criminals were never punished and continued with their careers in politics and medicine. The closest thing he got as an apology (or any sense of closure) is a few bucks and “sorrys” from Japanese officials. Even Japan himself never formally apologized for any of his war crimes that  _ he  _ committed against several of his family members, saying “It’s all in the past now. Let’s move forwards and not backwards.”

His wounds and bruises was gone, but the scars are still there. And knowing that everyone in the world knows about how Japan abused his younger brother for political gain had made Yong Soo feels  _ twisted _ .

“Damnit,” Yong Soo leans back into his seat with a groan. “Thinking about the past is making me depressed.”

“Then don’t think about it,” Japan offhandedly states.

Yong Soo sits back up and stares blankly at the Japanese man, a sour frown plastered on his lips.

“. . . Out . . .” Yong Soo mutters under his breath. 

“Sorry?” Japan turns to his brother.

“You need to get  _ out _ ,” the Korean clearly demands. “You need to get out of my country and go to China. He’ll help you out.”

“But China -”

“I know it’s a pain to get to his house,” Yong Soo stands up, looking down on his brother. “But I’ll be damned if you stay at my home or my country longer than necessary.”

Japan sighs, tired. “I understand,” he says. “I’ll get a ticket by tomorrow morning. I just need to stay here for the night.”

“Well then, you can get a hotel room,” Yong Soo states, anger and annoyance filling him up. “You ain’t staying here.”

“I can’t get a hotel room,” Japan clarifies, firmer than before. “My face is  _ everywhere _ . I even think some of your people noticed me on the way here.” He stood up and went over to Yong Soo with worry dripping from his face. “Look, I know you don’t have the most positive feelings for me, but I beg of you, let me stay. I  _ promise  _ I’ll be out by the morning.”

Yong Soo crosses his arms and think deeply into the situation. Japan wouldn’t be wrong when he says that his face is everywhere. The South Korean personification wouldn’t need to think hard, knowing that the South Korean Twitter and other media outlets had slapped Japan’s face everywhere. But when a prideful nation like Japan  _ begged  _ to stay, Yong Soo had to take a quick peek into his people’s minds to get more insight. Just to see if Japan was  _ really _ in danger.

In Seoul right now, there are more than a few who had strong opinions against Japan, but it’s mainly the elderly who lived though Japanese Rule. The younger generation certainly have their opinions too, but they tend to be less passionate except for a few. However, those few have interested Yong Soo. Those few are what they called “extremists”, having ideals that supports Korean patriotism no matter what. 

Don't get Yong Soo wrong. Every personified nation loves patriotism. With people being happy to be living in their own country, it only confirms that the nation is doing a good job in taking care of them. However, this isn't the healthy kind of patriotism nations aimed for. It's an obsession with the country, declaring said nation is perfect and has no flaws. Every other nation can't measure up to their own country, and if so, it wasn't the "same" as theirs. These people are willing to do mental gymnastics to say "My country is the best" and nothing else would make it better. 

And when you have too many of these people, it would lead to an unwillingness to change and get better and other "undesirable" results. Trust Yong Soo on this. He had _ plenty _ of experience in this. Anyways, because of the combination of this patriotism and the existence of personified nations, some of his people's patriotism went through the  _ roof _ . 

These extremists of all corners his land are coming together for the support of their personified nation and for the  _ prosecution _ of Japan’s personification. In their eyes, the punishment that Japan received (As described in the documents) felt like a slap of the wrist, considering he is a Class A war criminal and walking around like anyone else. While Yong Soo isn’t completely disagreeing with them, the suggestions of punishments coming from these extremists’ thoughts are _ inhuman _ . They want to burn Japan up until his meat fall off his bones. They want him to be drown in disgusting fluids. They want to slam their foot on Japan’s skull until it turns into a mixture of dust and brain mess. They want Japan to  _ suffer _ until he turns into a hollow shell of his former self. They want to  _ destroy  _ the country with unspeakable methods that made Yong Soo sick with anxiety.

“Fine . . .” Yong Soo sighs after seeing the desires of the extremists. “I guess you can stay here for tonight.”

Just as Japan releases his breath, Yong Soo yanks his suit tie and directly glares at his brother’s eyes. 

“Just so you know,” he says, venom dripping from his tongue. “I have a  _ shit ton _ of military training. If you tried something, I got a  _ K2  _ with your name on it.”

“Okay, okay,” Japan mutters quickly. “I don’t even have an army anymore! I only have a defense!”

“That’s still an army, Japan,” Yong Soo let go of his brother, who rubbing his sore neck. “Anyways, if you are hungry, I’d made dinner already.”

“Dinner?”

“Yes, dinner!” Yong Soo throws his arms up. “I was about to eat until you show up.”

Japan looks behind the Korean and see the large spread of foods across his table.

“You were going to eat all of that?” Japan asks. “And with tubs of that red pepper paste and kimchi?”

“First of all, it’s called  _ gochujang _ ,” Yong Soo clarifies. “Second, yes.”

“Um, that’s how you gain weight, right?”

“Do you want me to kick you out?” 

“No.”

“Okay, then shut it,” Yong Soo picks up his chopsticks. “And let’s eat!”

* * *

  
  


“Is this  _ tamagoyaki _ ?” Japan points out the egg roll on the table. 

“No, it’s  _ gyeran-mari _ !” Yong Soo states, shoving rice into his mouth. “It’s originated in Korea, da-ze!”

Japan sighs, putting a piece of the savory egg roll into his mouth.  _ This is going to be a long night _ , he thought.

* * *

“You found Japan, aru?” China gasps. “Where was he? Aiya! I’m going to -”

“China, relax,” Yong Soo lays on his bed. “I’m sending Japan over to you. We even got plane tickets for a private flight. All paid by me.”

“I just . . .” Yong Soo hears China breathes heavily over the phone. “I have been so worried. I was so worried about all of you guys and - And when Japan didn’t call, I feared for the worst.”

“Hyeong,” Yong Soo turns on his stomach. “Hyeong, just listen. I know everything right now seems like a rushed k-drama with the actors failing over each other because they didn’t eat anything for two days, but I promise you that everything will be fine.”

China takes a few deep breaths, calming himself down. “I’m sorry,” he replies. “ I forgot to do my  _ taichi _ today.”

“It’s fine,” Yong Soo states. “Just know that Japan is on the way. All of your siblings are fine now. All you need to worry about is Hong Kong because he’s going through that moody teenager phase again, and that’s annoying to deal with.”

“You’re a moody teenager that’s annoying to deal with,” China chuckles lightheartedly. “Anyways, I have to help out Macau. He just came in a few minutes ago.”

“Okay, I’ll call you when Japan is getting on the flight,” Yong Soo sits up, his bed bouncing slightly. 

“Thank you, Korea,” China says. “Thank you so much.” 

Yong Soo hears soft “China, why’s the table on fire?” on the other end. The phone call abruptly hangs up.

Yong Soo stretches his arms, tired. Man, he didn’t even think that he has to see Japan today, much less relive his wartime days. Yong Soo looks at his clock.  _ 23:09 _ . He looks over to his gaming setup, mildly disappointed that he couldn’t play  _ League of Legends _ with the rest of his gamer friends. However, he needs to sleep before he can kick Japan out of his country. 

But, when he’s drifting off to sleep, Yong Soo can hear the voices of his people, continuously questioning his existence with enthusiasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man! I really hoping that I didn't mess up. I tried to be sensitive as possible and if I screwed up, let me know.
> 
> I know the countless of horrible things that Japan did during World War II and their rule over Korea, and I want to be sensitive about it. There will be more content about World War II in the near future that will be more blunt about the tragedies that happened. 
> 
> If you have any suggestions of how I should approach the topic, let me know. I love constructive feedback.
> 
> By the way, update won't be as frequent as before since I'm starting to go back to college next week and have to focus on my studies.
> 
> Anyways, thank you for much for reading.
> 
> My DA Account is: https://www.deviantart.com/almintoms  
My webcomic is at: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/a-goddess-handbook/list?title_no=306030


	6. East Asia - 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Mentions of abuse and sexual assault. Please proceed with caution.

_ South Korea: A Personified Victim _

_ By: Gyo Ha Yun _

_ I have been a human rights activist for the past few decades and assisted in multiple countries. I had help get clean water to third world countries, increase the availability of doctors and other health services, and many more. And I had been writing down my experiences for years on my blog. However, I would like to hit closer to my home and discuss about South Korea, the recent discovery of personified nations, and how South Korea’s past violates the personification’s rights.  _

_ If any person knows me, I love South Korea and I’m proud to be a South Korean. The food is great. The people have a strong spirit. I love it. However, due to the recent ”Nations Revealed” discovery, there were many reactions. In Europe, there were riots. Approximately over 10,000 people had gotten hurt in these riots (Links:  _ _ English Riots had left 3,000 injured _ _ and  _ _ Current Estimated: 10,000 injured or killed in European Riots. _ _ ). While these are tragic, it luckily spread to most of Asia. The biggest riot that broke out was in Taiwan and less than 50 people were injured and no one is killed (Link:  _ _ Taiwanese Riots caused 47 Injuries _ _ ). This isn’t saying that because less people got hurt, it’s not tragic. I’m saying this is the biggest riot that broke out in Asia so far, and I’m happy that a bigger riot didn’t break out. _

_ However, South Korea is an outlier. _

_ Even though most Asian countries haven’t experienced much in terms of riots, most had experienced protests against the personification. For example, in Beijing, China, there is a small but vocal protest, declaring that the personification is “dangerous” for the Chinese people. However, this is not limited to China. Vietnam to India (Which has the biggest protest so far), many Asian countries have experienced protests of some kind that was against the existence of their personified country. _

_ But South Korea didn’t _

_ While I don’t fully understand this reaction, I can understand there are several Koreans organizing a support rally for the personification. There are already several news reports doing interviews with the people involved with the hashtag:  _ ** _#KoreaRevealParty _ ** _ trend _ **. ** _ All over Twitter and various social media pages have been in support of the Reveal of the South Korean Personification, even gaining international attention. Personally speaking, I think it’s great to support a personification instead of trying to harm them, but I feel it’s getting out of hand. _

_ For example: _

_ On Twitter: _

_ “Oh mi god! I can imagine Korea being a kpop fan! It would be funny if so! #KoreaRevealParty” _

_ “What if Korea is like a kpop idol? I think Jumin would a great Korea #KoreaRevealParty #btsarmy” _

_ “I’m calling it! Korea is a nerd that likes MMOs and kdramas! #KoreaRevealParty” _

_ “Is Korea hot? No offense but Korean guys are like hot. #KoreaRevealParty” _

_ “ #KoreaRevealParty i’m so excited! Korea’s gonna be a cinnamon roll! I call it!” _

_ On Reddit, the subreddit “r/korea” have been exploring with information about the personification with interesting posts. _

_ “I think this might be Korea. Pictures proof!” _

_ “What do you think Korea would be like?” _

_ “Apparently S. Korea have walk across the DMZ Zone to visit his brother, N. Korea. He had done this several times. Without anyone noticing.” _

_ “Turns out Korea have a dirty mind” _

_ “Korea Fanart!” _

_ This is only the surface of the internet’s fanaticism with the personification of South Korea. I had even seen NSFW content on him while there’s no official picture of the personification. However, I think we are overlooking the issue here. While the whole internet is making South Korea into a meme, there is something that is frightening about the personification. It’s not the concept of immortality or being the personification of an entire group of people, but it lays within his long and disturbing history as the country of Korea. Having read the documents on Wikileaks, I’m upset that no one has been focusing on this.  _

_ And no one is talking about the suggested trauma the nation had experienced. _

_ I had printed the “South Korea’s Files” and highlights the parts I find concerning, but I’ll focus on a few for now since there’s too much to cover. On page 2237, the Personification of the United States had written: _

_ “While I don’t know much about him during the fight against North Korea and his allies, South Korea is really small and was shaken by the conflict. I wish I could help more, but I’m currently dealing with the conflicts in other countries. However, I will send some men over. I hope that guy pulls though.”  _

_ And _

_ “The night where I stayed over in S. Korea’s place (in 1951), he told me that he doesn’t want Americans taking over his place and was blunt about which things are his and ‘originated’ in South Korea. I heard ‘This is mine, da-ze!’ and ‘This originated from me, da-ze!’ all night long. He even claimed that my guns belongs to him and tried to take them. That kid is pretty strict about what I can and can’t use too. I have to pee outside because he doesn’t want me use his bathroom. Weird . . . Also, what’s up with this kid and his ‘da-ze’ thing? Is it like China’s ‘aru’ thing too?” _

_ Let’s overlook the last few sentences because the internet had turned it into a meme as this point. It had covered the deeply dark descriptions in these paragraphs. As you have just read, South Korea is described to be a child during the infamous Korean War, and he has an obsession with claiming things as his. I questioned why is this a thing and what’s going on his mind when he said “this is mine” and “This originated from me.” This is a child we are talking about, right? Possession is one thing, but to claim other people’s property as his? This isn’t normal behavior for a child. _

_ However, some people said he isn’t a child during the Korean War because South Korea has been around for thousands of years at that point. So how can you considered him a child when he’s older than you and your grandparents? _

_ Across the internet, there are questions about what exactly his age is and whether he should be considered an adult or not. As seen in the picture that was discovered in Japan's files of the documents: _

_ While it’s not confirmed, if you see the outfit, the figure is wearing a  _ hanbok _ , which is a traditional Korean wear. There’s no debate about the origin of the clothes, but however, while it’s not uncommon to wear a hanbok during World War II, this picture was taken in Japan. Therefore, why is he wearing something so districtly Korean in Japan? One theory is that this is a Korean politician, but this is impossible. Because the figure is too small and thought to be in his early teens (Around twelve to fourteen years of age). Therefore, this presumed child cannot be a politician due to his youth. So if he isn’t a politician, who is he? _

_ This child is assumed by many to be South Korea. _

_ Now, many said that he has a mind of an adult and that’s what counts, right? Well, not exactly. According to the documents, a nation personification’s age doesn’t work like humans. For example, humans age and grow, physically and mentally, with each year that they are lived. However, for personifications, they age (physically and mentally) with the development and independence of their nation, but however, it is only in theory. Nothing has been confirmed yet, and it’s only a theory made by the suggestive evidence from the files. However, the biggest example that supports the theory that is the personification of Moldova.  _

_ _

_ Unlike the other pictures, this one has a date and location written on the file. This was taken in 2008 in Florence, Italy (Link:  _ _ Moldova’s File on Wikileaks _ _ ). It is a very recent picture than compared to the others in the files. _

_ As you can see, Moldova is physically a child (Between the ages of six to eight, as speculated). The country of Moldova has been around - in some fashion - since 1346. This personification looks like he is still in primary school, but he is literally hundreds of years old and is an official worker for the Moldovan government that holds a higher position than most l _ _ egislators _ _ . _

_ But that doesn’t mean he is mentally his age. _

_ He still exhibits childlike mannerisms as his and Romania’s (who is confirmed to be his blood relative) files had suggested . _

_ “[Romania] said that [Moldova] needs naps around every afternoon or else he would be grumpy.” - Moldova’s File, Page 3531, in section “Personal Needs” _

_ “Moldova is a picky eater and only wants a dish called  _ Mămăligă  _ and candy _ . _ ” _

_ \- Moldova’s File, Page 3535, in section “Personal Needs” _

_ “Moldova have a nanny when Romania isn’t around.” _

_ \- Moldova’s File, Page 3538, in section “Personal Needs” _

_ “Moldova wants Santa to know that he wants underwear and a good economy for Christmas.” _

_ \- Moldova’s File, Page 3616, in section “Comments” _

_ Also I have to point this out, it is stated in his files that “Because he is not mentally prepared for a heavy workload, Moldova will have to work less than ten hours a week and get paid accordingly. Ignore his demands to work longer hours, he can’t handle it.” While questions arose about how personifications age or whether it is ethical to let a child work in government just because he is a personification, the idea of nations age has been used to explain why personification aren’t fit to represent a nation. _

_ But I’ll use it to explain how much more tragic South Korea’s past is because of this. _

_ If the child in the picture is South Korea, then his own personal rights have been violated over and over again at a sensitive age, a prime time for a person’s mental development. As described in the now-called “Basics Files”, a nation personification is directly linked to the actual nation itself. For example, the Hundred Years’ War started because the English Personification and the French Personification had fought in several hundreds of duels over a period of two months. While this could be coincidence, the Basics Files had recorded this phenomena between the 1850s to the present day (And also a few outliers too).  _

_ This includes the First Sino-Japanese War, which led to Japanese rule in Korea. _

_ If you are familiar with the rest of the Basics Files and with the familial connections between nations, I suggested skipping this bit. It’s going to get long.  _

_ So family works completely differently for personifications and it can shaped an entire country’s history. For example, England had adopted many modern day countries, including the USA, Canada (after France give “custody” over), Australia, many places in the West Indies, etc. England also had used “Big Brother” as both a term of endearment as well as establishing his patriarchal position over his colonies. France had used a similar term with his own colonies too (“Grand Frère” or Big Brother in French). In fact, England and France in the past had fought over who will be the “Big Brother” over which colonies, which also caused wars over such disputes. _

_ China had used a similar term with countries before, either calling himself their “Teacher” or “Big Brother.” And South Korea is no exception as he calls China his “Hyeong” or Big Brother in Korean. During the first Sino-Japanese War, it has been essentially a custody battle between Japan and China over both North and South Korea (according to the files, both Koreas are twin brothers), and Japan won. Japan had won the privilege of being called “Big Brother” by the Koreas. However, if anyone in South Korea knew, Japan wasn’t a good Big Brother, especially during World War II.  _

** _Now, I have to warn you all. If you can sensitive with _ ** ** _child abuse_ ** ** _ and suggestions of _ ** ** _sexual _ ** _ **assault, please skip over this a few paragraphs until the last three paragraphs.** _

_ Japan had exploited South Korea in his imperialist wars. According to the “Capture Files”, South Korea had stand as a witness in one of the trials and described the abuse he had experienced while living with Japan. He stated: _

_ “I wasn’t allowed to speak my native language. If I did, I would get beaten up. [Japan] said that my culture was ill informed. That is it not proper for the modern era. That I need to learn his culture since mine was undeveloped. From morning to night, that man made me learn everything about his culture. Shinto, Japanese heroes, and a bunch of other stuff. But the message was the same. My culture are bad and his was good. That I needed to be like him to be ‘better.’ Japan didn’t directly teach this to me. He had hired people to do that. And if I get a test answer wrong, the teacher would put grains of dry rice on the floor and make me kneel in it, bared. It hurts so much. It felt like thick needles into stabbing my knees. The teacher would then make take the test again. Regardless if it hurts. Regardless if my knees bleed. I would not leave until I get every answer right.” _

_ This is what all he said. It was reported that South Korea was intimidated by Japan’s presence in the courtroom and refused to further his testimony. On the other hand, he did allow himself to show his injuries that he said (outside of the courtroom) was caused by Japan’s soldiers as evidence. _

_ However, I could only wonder what happened to him exactly. What he said already is horrific for a young child, but it was just on the surface. Let’s analysis what South Korea had said and connected to real life events. When South Korea said that he had to speak Japanese instead Korean and had to learn a bunch of propaganda pieces from Japan, I suspected it was linked to the real life events of when the Japanese tried to assimilate Koreans to their culture. While it is a complicated topic to tacked, I’ll give you a quick run down. _

_ Basically, when Japanese had control over Korea’s education system (From primary school to university), they taught students in a Japanese model system. While teachers should teach Korean and Japanese culture equally, it rarely happened as lessons focused on teaching about Japanese nationalism. Soon, it became illegal to teach certain historical subjects that wasn’t approved by the Japanese government, which led to countless literature texts about Korean history to be burned. Also, the Japanese government had tried to force Koreans into Shintoism and etc. As you can see, this is a trend, but the message is clear if we follow the rules from before.  _

_ This is the result from the Japanese personification trying to make the South Korean personification more Japanese. _

_ According to the Basic Files, when a nation personification treat another personification in a certain way, it can trigger the nations - as a whole - to be react in a similar way and vise versa. Japan had committed several war crimes against Korea, so this has to affected South Korea in a way. _

_ So I questioned what had happened during his stay with Japan. _

_ Had South Korea - as a personification - felt the pain of his people during Japanese rule? _

_ Had South Korea felt belittled by the rhetoric of the Japanese? _

_ Had South Korea had to work to supply the Japanese army by working in a factory? _

_ Had South Korea experience the inhumane work conditions in Hashima? _

_ Had South Korea slept with one eye open? _

_ As an immortal, had South Korea’s head had been cut off and reattached again as sport for Japanese soldiers? _

_ Had South Korea died over and over again just to entertain Japan? _

_ Had South Korea see through the eyes of the Comfort Women? _

_ Had South Korea felt violated and sick as they did? _

_ And, after it was said and done and Japanese rule is over, had he felt alone and broken with no start to begin rebuilding from? _

_ In the past few days, we - as the human race - had painted the personifications as the villains. The perpetrators of war. The scientifically impossible creatures from the beyond. However, we forgot that these personifications can be hurt and scarred by other personifications as described as the Basics Files. South Korea possibly experienced the worst of humanity at an age (or a state) where he shouldn’t be able to handle that. Even _ adults _ couldn’t handle that. The fact that South Korea dug himself from the war-sicken state he was in and bloomed into a cultural power is beyond an impressive feat. It’s a miracle! _

_ However, South Korea is still a victim of World War II, and we are looking over that fact by a million kilometers distance while we are fetishizating him. _

_ I’ll be coming to the #KoreaRevealParty Rally out of curiosity. I won’t be protesting anything, but I’ll keep in mind, if the South Korean personification really come out as rumored, I’ll remember the struggles he had to go through instead of noticing only the surface-level attraction and flashiness from South Korean pop culture.  _

_ I suggested you do the same please. _

** _In the next article, I will talk about North Korea and his ongoing abuse with his current regime._ **

* * *

As Yong Soo looks down at his phone, he feels an illness crawling up his back. He knew he shouldn’t look at Twitter. It’s where he found the damn article in the first place. Yong Soo throws his head back, the plastic seat creaks under the sudden movement, and take a deep and long sigh. There is a two hour delay on Japan’s flight, and it’s a mental nightmare. First, the Uber driver they hired had ripped them off by asking three hundred thousand won as payment. Then his boss called Yong Soo, asking where the hell is he and why is he not at his apartment. He guess those government agents already checked his apartment. The personification had to explained for ten minutes about the situation with Japan, saying he had forgotten to tell him about this development. His boss told him there will be a private ride waiting for him, ready to take him home immediately after Japan get on a plane. And man, he’s not going to be prepared to face those irritated agents who’s wondering why they got to drive a teen down to an apartment building.

Finally, he had to take a look at Twitter when he became bored. It was one of his biggest mistakes he had ever made besides starting the “Flagpole War” with North Korea and blasting Kpop songs via loudspeakers over to North’s border guards.

For two days, Yong Soo had tried to not look at Twitter because he just knew he would find something upsetting. But, when he’s going to wait for a whole two hours for a damn plane and Taiwan’s famous bubble tea won’t last the same time, Yong Soo opened Twitter app on his phone and took a risk he now regrets. The first treading hashtag Yong Soo saw was  _ #KoreaRevealParty _ and knows it’s for him. When he was scrolling through the tag, there were tweets from excited people across the world that wanted to go to a support rally that was taking place in Seoul. Among the tweets, there were several explicit plans for the rally with people were showing their plane tickets to South Korea and even getting their outfits ready for the day of the event. Even Yong Soo - the biggest fan of South Korean pop music - is a bit scared to see that those  _ sasaengs  _ are coming to the rally too. He blames BTS when they used the hashtag and stated that while they can’t come to the rally due to a tour they were on, they will support their country on the sidelines.

However, South Korea’s cheeks did became heated when these Korean demigods said they would support him as a person. He, somehow, felt honored to be noticed by them.

But that happiness did not last when he found that article. While Yong Soo can grit his teeth through the sudden interest of South Korea as a person, he can’t handle when someone digs up his past and put it under a microscope.

Yong Soo knows this person well. Even though they've never met, Gyo Ha Yun is a kindly but passionate woman and had spent her life in helping people in other countries, whether it’s cleaning water holes or helping with eye surgeries in poverty stricken areas. Someone Yong Soo would be proud to be considered one of his people. While he’s not mad at her for writing an article that is now famous across the internet - having translations in several languages to spend her words - people talk about the article. Yong Soo see the tweets about the article, which, of course, sparked discussions about his past.

**Beary** @mugiyu

Damn..… Just read the article

and s. Korea had it rough

I feel bad. #korearevealparty

**22.9k** likes  **82.1k** retweets

|

**Mariwa_vemn ** @maribe

**@mugiyu** He must had been only

a kid when ww2 happened. It’s like the

14-year-old girls that were forced to be

Comfort women. His childhood

is ruined because of this.

|

**Cheers** @Wereme

**@maribe ** And it’s his brother too!

Man, that gotta fuck him up in some way.

Especially when you know

him for hundreds of years.

|

**Sarabela** @Wymon

**@maribe @Wereme** I dunno. We don’t know

if these things can feel emotions

like humans do.

Maybe he benefited something

out of Japanese rule and stabbed

Japan in back when he’s done?

|

**Cheers** @Wereme

**@Wymon ** OH FUCK OFF!

Of course he can feel.

The rest of his kind can feel. Remember when

Italy that asked for help a few days ago?

He said he was scared and need help!

|

**Sarabela** @Wymon

**@Wereme** Yeah but did he really need help?

He had killed millions in ww2 too. And if you hate japan,

You have to hate him too. He’s a part of the axis too.

|

**Cheers** @Wereme

**@Wymon ** By that logic,

I should hate every nation. Everyone killed

MILLIONS in the past. But, on N. italy files,

It said that he was a bad soldier during ww2

and had a really low body count.

|

**Sarabela** @Wymon

**@Wereme ** He still KILLED people.

And s.korea is still not a victim.

He acted like he didn’t benefited from japan,

But it’s a lie.

|

**Sarabela** @Wymon

**@Wereme ** korean royalty had benefited from

Japanese royalty, mimicking them in every way.

Japan had helped korea because they were undeveloped.

|

**Sarabela** @Wymon

**@Wereme ** You should be

Grateful for japanese dealing with korea.

If it didn’t happen, you won’t have your kpop, kdramas,

K food, and whatever you like, 

|

**Sarabela** @Wymon

**@Wereme **

You should live in korea if you care about him.

But you won’t. You only like the shiny things

About korea.

|

**Sarabela** @Wymon

**@Wereme ** plus japan had apologize

Over and over again. Stop

Acting like he didn’t. Korea has its

apology.

|

**Sarabela** @Wymon

**@Wereme ** however all of the things you

like about korea are things

That japan did first. Korea is just a

intimation.

|

**Cheers** @Wereme

**@Wymon ** DID A TUMOR GROW

OUT OF YOUR ASS?!?!!

So on and so on, people were fighting over him. People said that he was a victim of Japan’s abuse. Others said he wasn’t a victim, just someone taking advantage over the Korean people during Japanese rule. And people - like this person on Twitter - said he doesn’t have feelings because he isn’t human. 

Every nation - since their births and before knowing about their true nature - knows they are different from humans. They feel like they are human, but they somehow knew they aren’t human. They are  _ different _ , and they fully know it. However, their feelings are very real.  _ His  _ feelings are real. To say that they don’t feel anything, it’s an insult to everything personification stand for. If personifications didn’t have feelings, why did China decided to adopt him and his brother without a second thought? If personifications didn’t have feelings, why did South Korea felt so personally hurt by Japan by his rule after many years? And if personifications didn’t have feelings, then why does he still deeply cares about his brother long after they fought in a horrible war? 

“Yong Soo?” a familiar voice creeps into his thoughts. “Are you okay?”

The Korean blinks, snapping back to reality. The sounds of clattering luggages and rushing footsteps filled the air as the half-emptied bubble tea he held tightly had made his fingers chilled and numb. His phone screen was black and inactive as he holds it in his other hand. Just as Yong Soo was brought back to reality, he feels a soft shove on his shoulder.

“Yong Soo,” Japan calls out. “Yong Soo, my flight is here. I just want you to know that before I leave.”

“O-Oh!” Yong Soo stands up suddenly, shoving his phone in his back pocket and throwing the tea in the nearest bin. “Sorry, Kiku. I was - Um, in Twitter Hell, basically.” 

“In Twitter Hell?”

“It’s something you won’t understand, old man!” Yong Soo claims. “Anyways!”

Yong Soo grabs Japan’s shoulder and turn him around. 

“W-Wait!” Japan interjects. “ What are you -”

“Just go to China already!” Yong Soo pushes the smaller man towards his arrived flight. The childish image of a taller man wearing an oversized hoodie pushing well-dressed but shorter man had gotten the attention of some bypassers.    
  


“ _ Okay, Japan _ ,” Yong Soo whispers in Japanese, trying to prevent any Koreans from eavesdropping. “ _ You got everything. An empty plane with a one-way trip to Sichuan province, China’s home. _ ”

“ _ What about the pilot? _ ” Japan whispers back in his native language. “ _ Does he know who’s he taking? _ ”

“ _ Nope! _ ” Yong Soo gives Japan a final shove, pushing him down the jet bridge. “ _ All he knows is that you’re an important politician and if he fails to take you to Sichuan, he’ll be fired. _ ”

Japan regains his balance from being pushed before turning back to Yong Soo and gives him a small bow. “ _ Thank you, Korea-kun _ ,” he says. “ _ I know you don’t like me, but I’m grateful for helping me in the first place. _ ”

“ _ The reason why I helped you is because I don’t like you _ ,” Yong Soo rebuts. “ _ I want you outside of my country, you arse _ .”

" _ Nevertheless, I'm grateful _ ."

Yong Soo scoffs at the compliment. 

" _ Just make sure the door hit you on the way out, _ " he waves off. 

With that, no more words was exchanged as Japan enters into the plane. Yong Soo stands near a window, watching the plane take off. He let go a sigh.  _ Finally _ , he thought.  _ He's out _ .

Now all he has to do is to deal with those agents, waiting for him in the car.

* * *

The car ride was anticlimactic to say the least. In fact, Yong Soo can say the agents in charge of the ride treated him much better than that scam artist of an Uber driver. They even cracked some jokes with him and put on  _ Blood, Sweat, and Tears _ in the radio! Like damn, Yong Soo didn't expect these people to be so cool. 

But alas, he had to go when they reached his apartment building just as the sun started to set. Yong Soo waves goodbye to the agents before going upstairs. As he climbs to the third level, he remembers something he was supposed to do at the airport.  _ Oh shit! _ He clicks his tongue in frustration, digging into his pockets and pulling out his phone.  _ I forgot to call China about Japan! _

Yong Soo scrolls down his contracts, but just as he tap on the words “Hyeong”, he hears giggles in front of him. He looks up and sees three teens in uniform on the hallway of his apartment. They look like they just came back from high school with their ties loosen around their necks and drinks in hand. Two of them were males and one is a girl. 

“I can’t wait for the break!” a male student stretches his arms over his head, sitting on the concrete floor. 

“But don’t we have tests before it,” another downs a soda, leading against a poor man’s door. “We should be at cram school.”

“Yeah, but it’s too hard to do so,” the girls waves it off before perking up. “By the way, did you watch the news lately?”

The boy on the floor laughs. “Of course I did!” he says. “The personification of nations! I feel like I’m in a visual novel with all of this!”

“But it’s totally real,” the girl grins. “Like you already know they can live, but I heard they are complete stereotypes.”

“England drinks two boxes worth of tea each day,” the student crushes the soda can in his hand. “America eats Mickey D’s everyday. Japan is introverted. France flirts a lot, and a bunch of other stuff. Makes you wonder what our personification is like, huh?”

Yong Soo freezes, eyes widen. 

“South Korea is probably like some K-pop fan!” The boy on the floor points out. “And he definitely likes K-dramas too!”

Yong Soo’s cheeks brighten.

“Yeah, yeah,” the girl claps, chuckling. “He probably eats mukbang-sized meals every day and have a lot of kimchi too. I can imagine his  _ Gimjang  _ would be like every granny in Korea coming together to make an insane amount of kimchi.”

Yong Soo feels like his face is on fire. It’s true. Every Gimjang he had, he had spend an unholy amount of time and money to make kimchi. He ordered all his materials three months in advance and spend an entire month inside making kimchi nonstop. His boss won’t even attempt to call him at that time. Everyone in his life won’t call him during that time. The sun or moon wouldn’t even shine upon Korea. They all know that any attempts to stop the Korean from making kimchi is a death sentence. Nothing matters other than producing delicious kimchi!

But it’s embarrassing for others to know he does that every year.

“I can imagine something like this,” the soda can boy adds. “Korea is watching a K-drama, let’s say _ The Guardians _ , while eating kimchi with chopsticks. However, he’s not eating kimchi alone. He’s putting gochujang on the kimchi and eating it like a  _ ssam _ .”

Again, it’s embarrassing for others to know he does that twice a week.

“If that’s not Korean,” the floor boy comments. “I don’t know - wait, who’s that?”

The floor boy points at the Yong Soo, who is blushing red and staring directly at them. Sweat forms on the base of his forehead, dripping slowly down his face. His body froze like a statue when the students all stared back at the personification with annoyed looks.

“Hey!” the floor boys yells. “What are you doing here, creep?”   
  


“Just ignore him,” the girl says, waving Yong Soo off. “He’s just dropout.”

“Dropout?”

“Yeah, I never seen him going to school before.”

_ I’m not at school because I was already homeschooled by China hundreds of years ago _ , Yong Soo thought. He pulls his hoodie over his head as an attempt to hide his blush.

However, the can boy ignores the nation and laughs slightly at the thought of an uneducated teen in Korea. “What does he do everyday? Stay indoors and play games?” he says. “Like what kind of parents let their kid be a loser?“

_ My parents are dead _ , Yong Soo grips tightly onto his sleeves. His parents (the Ancient Koreas) are probably two of the Three Kingdoms with their names being Silla, Baekje, and Goguryeo. From what China had said, all three had died shortly after Yong Soo and his twin’s birth, who became the United Silla and Balhae r espectively . In short, Yong Soo doesn’t even know his parents or which of Three Kingdoms are his parents.

“Nah,” the girl continues, leaning against a wall. “He does something. Like I saw him wearing this weird hanbok many times before while carrying a bag filled with something too.”

His hanbok is his “uniform” for his government job, and his bag is filled with paperwork for his boss.

“What does he do for a living then?” the can boy asks, playfully. “Being a maid? Tea ceremonies?”

“No one knows,” the girl replies. “He’s just a creep that lives next door.”

Yong Soo, once again, feels small and helpless as those teens continue to talk. They makes it sound like he committed a murder.  _ Just leave me alone . . . _ he thought. _ Just stop talking about me. _

“He’s our age and has no parents living at home,” the girl adds, using a whispering tone. “I never seen him with anyone at all. He’s always alone, but he looks so damn happy like a psych ward patient.”

“Then maybe he is a psych ward patient.”

Yong Soo couldn’t take this anymore. He marches ahead, passing the teens who only talk in whispers. Just as he unlocking his apartment door, Yong Soo hears one last thing.

“I told you,” the girl restates. “He’s nothing but a creep.”

He slams the door when he enters. Yong Soo presses his back and slides down the floor, shutting his tired eyes when he hits the ground. His heart beats hard in his chest, feeling it could burst out. He isn’t a fool when people are talking about South Korea, but this isn’t like the other talks years before. When people talk about South Korea, no one would talk about him like he was a person with a personality. They would talk about South Korea as a whole country. Something that seems normal to them.

But it all has changed.

From this day to the next generations, words like “fatherland” and “motherland” has a whole different meaning. He doesn’t know why those teens affect him as much as it did. He guesses he isn’t used to being insulted by people outside of his family or being talk as a person.

Yong Soo gasps lightly, realizing an overlooked point.

“Oh my God . . .” he whispers out.

With being a personification of a whole culture and landmass, people would start to think about him as a person with feelings. Now when people think of a country involved in a conflict, it is not just a faceless mass of people anymore. It is a teenager that lived alone in his overpriced apartment. When people think of South Korea during Japanese rule, they do not see a tragic event in history that is over and dealt with. They think of a victim of Japanese imperialism that still dealing with trauma, and unlike other victims, old age can’t take him away from this Earth. He’s here to stay and to deal with his childhood memories.

The new idea of a single person being a nation is so odd and/or terrifying that everyone is trying to figure out how to deal with it. Either it’s claiming that these beings are a new species or telling others that they should disappear. Or even sympathizing with the nations.

Humans are just trying to cope about the whole situation. 

Yong Soo looks at the phone that is still in his hand. April 14 is the day where #KoreaRevealParty supposed to happen. Thousands of people across the world would come to his Seoul and supports him. And despite all of the hateful comments filling his head, there are so many people who are so caring about the country. However, at the time, they are overlapping themselves with all the hate until it turns into mush and nonsense in Yong Soo’s head.

It is going to be awhile until his government can figure something out, but the rally is going to be sooner.

_ Sunday, 14 April _

_ Rally _

Yong Soo saves this date on his calendar app. He’s only going out of curiosity. He’s not going to reveal himself, but he just needs to know what it's like. If people really cares, he just needed to see it for himself.

After all, even a nation like him doesn’t know how to cope with all that had happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to God I didn't offend anyone. I wanted to be as sensitive as possible, so let me know what I did wrong please. 
> 
> Anyways, I wanted to say thank you for all of the support that I have so far. I'm very happy that everyone is enjoying this so far. But the next chapter will be more lighthearted than this so don't worry about being so dark. 
> 
> Because we are going to North Europe next time with our favorite group, and it will much happier than before.
> 
> But for now, thank you for reading this chapter and see you next time.
> 
> Webcomic: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/a-goddess-handbook/list?title_no=306030  
DA Account: https://www.deviantart.com/almintoms


	7. North Europe - 1

It has been over a month since the release, and the world seems to be calming down lately.

The news about personificated nations had a major impact on the general population. People had riots. People protested. People went on the internet and gives their opinion about the subject. 

Then it slows down.

It didn’t die out completely, of course. Something this life-changing will never died out. However, it did become safer to introduce the world to their nations, holding press conferences and whatnot. Ukraine just had one the other day and is currently receiving feedbacks and opinions about politics, her current situation with her brother, and her obvious large tracts of land (“Can I milk those _ things _, babe?!” one young man said, drooling. “They’re so puffy! Have I seen them before?! Like in a porno!”). However, some press conferences didn’t go so well. Let’s say, for example, Norway. Before the conference happened, Norway is the only one of the Nordics to have a picture within the released documents, and the internet went crazy over him.

The long fringe of his smooth sliver-like hair that was pulled back by his unique cross barrette, skin white as a bed of fallen snow, eyes of a deep violet, people became attracted to his unique and supernatural-like features. Norway seemingly gains a lot of fans overnight due to his whimsical looks alone, and more when people started to read more of his files. After all, descriptions about his vikings days has drawn so many fans into the ever growing “Norway fandom,” which they proceeded to worship the stoic man. Which is ironic when considering that Norway is always a bit shy around people. 

Twitter commented on his gentle looks and while they make memes about how no one can uphold such perfection. Tumblr had made fanart of this being of myths. Reddit is going crazy when the documents provide a little information about Norway's dislikes and interests, so they just have to make headcanons to give the man a distinct personality. And for 4Chan, well . . . the neckbeards are ruining vikings again and turning Norway into a grossly drawn waifu to pleasure themselves with. Thankfully, the former Norwegian viking noticed this and made an offhand comment about it during an informal interview (or an impromptu interview due to an interviewer following Norway to his work) that crushes such dreams. 

“If these people were to become vikings, they’ll be the slaves and would be sold the first chance we got.”

With all of the attention that Norway had been receiving, it had made Denmark a bit jealous of the Norweigian’s new found fame. Earlier in the month (Or more like the first day), he publicly claimed himself as the personification of the Kingdom of Denmark. However, the internet tore him a new one for the claim, calling him a creep for shouting this in the middle of Copenhagen while calling the Danish Royalty his “best pals.” Which he should have known was inappropriate since Danish people are protected of their royalty. Nevertheless, Norway “subtlety” rubs his fame in Denmark’s face as if he just won another Eurovision. 

However, this positive energy didn’t last for long.

When Norway have that press conference, people went crazy. Fans smiles maniacally when Norway spokes in his deep, heavily accented voice he has. He answered many questions with the grace of an angel, swift and sharp. The whole conference was on livestream, being watched across the world by people who don't even understand a hint of Norweigian. The video alone went on Youtube trending within the hour of its release. The conference would have gone down well if it wasn’t for one random question a reporter asked.

“Do you believe in magic?”

Norway shouldn’t answer honestly if he would know the backlash he would have. He should have known what the internet would do. Nevertheless, he answers.

“Yeah, I practice with it often.”

He didn’t know the whole internet would flip its shit when they find out.

  


**The Daily Bugle** @The_DailyBugle

BREAKING NEWS - Norway’s press conference

reveals a man’s history all away to the Viking Era. LInk

**102.2m Likes 201.9m Retweet**

|

**Marianne **@CheeriCoke12

Holy crap! Norway’s so interesting! 

I can’t wait to see more nations

come out!

|

**Mr_Teach **@TeachMachine

I definitely going to

show this to my students.

What an historical moment! :) #norway

|

**REPENTPERSON120** @REPENTPERSON120

DO NOT LISTEN TO THIS SNAKE!

HE ONLY SPEAKS WITH POISONOUS LIES!

  
  


**Yogi2020** @Christfulman

#Norway is not a godly

man. He is a pagan that worship

the devils of the past. We need to help

him to seek salvation! 

**1k Likes 1.9k Retweet**

  


**Peacher12 **@Jesussavesme

My students in my youth group

are being corrupted by this pagan

that bears a cross! They say he’s nice,

but that’s not right!

Norway isn’t a good influence! #Norway

**8.5k Likes 9.2k Retweet**

  


**WomenDefined** @WomenDefined

We made a video about the Norway’s Conference

and how Christ is being ignored in modern society.

Link #norway

**10.5k Likes 9.4k Retweet**

This wasn’t the worst of this. A week after the conference, a man followed Norway to his house and doxxed his address. People had sent threatening letters to his house, ranging from the vanilla death threats to detailed plans to implant a bomb on his property. While frightening at face value, Norway brushed it off at the time. He thought it was very unlikely for someone would carry their threats out and only venting about their dark desires. 

Looking back, he shouldn’t be quick to dismiss such claims.

When Norway was at work, his house was broke in. He doesn’t know who did it, but who ever did it, they had left his house a mess. They broke all of Norway’s furniture and windows. They plugged all the sinks in and turn them on, flooding the whole place. All of his books about Norse myths and spells were shedded and scattered across his living room along with his bashed in television. And somehow, they put large holes in his walls and put all of the contents from his kitchen bin into the free spaces. 

As expected, Norway immediately called the police and informed his boss about the situation. Then he made his second mistake. He let his people know about the incident too soon.

The media had a epileptic seizure when - after all of the European Riots took place - a nation’s house was broken into. Left and right, media people was trying to take interviews with the police about the break-in while taking pictures of the destroyed house and the evidence that was being collected 

Including a damaged family picture. 

There were around four or five figures in that black-and-white photo. All having different heights and appearances. However, no one could identify them as the damage and dirt is too much to see much of the figures, but many could see one thing in particular.

Norway with his hand on the shoulder of a smaller boy with pale skin and silver hair.

The internet has been making theories about the now dubbed “Snow-Skinned Boy.” Some said he was Norway’s son he had back in World War II. Some said he was probably dead from old age at this point. Others had whispered that he was a nation too and may be living in the present. Nevertheless, the Snow-Skinned Boy have to be related to Norway in some way as their appearances were uncanny.

_ They are right _ , he thought, reading another reddit post. _ They have the right ideas but can't pinpoint it. Upvote. _

Emil - the personification of Iceland - is both impressed and not at the same time. In his open kitchen, he sits near his table and browses the internet though his laptop. His puffin, who's relaxing on a pillow near the nation, has been half-asleep while Emil make small comments here and there. For the past few hours, the nation has read many international articles relating to Norway in some way, either it’s the current political climate of the country, his broken house, or his dashing good looks. If they weren’t talking about Norway (Which is 95.243 percent of the time), those articles are about Sweden, Finland, and that crazy guy who claimed to be Denmark.

But never about Iceland.

_ They’re trying their best _ , he reaches into a bag and pulls out a thin crisp before popping it in his mouth. _ But no one will look at Iceland for answers. They’re even looking at Greenland and, of course, that guy looks nothing like me. He’s Denmark’s brother! _

There was some obvious benefits for being a small and quiet nation. Many nations would overlook you during wartime. There’s less crime than average. And when you screwed up or do questionable shit, no one will notice as you push things under the rug (Like the time when Emil put a bunch of people in solitary confinement to get confessions for a few maybe murders).

And - during the whole time while bigger and louder nations were revealed - nations like Iceland sneaked past the radar with no problems. This is mainly because the files for smaller nations were around a page at the most and only gives the bare minimum amount in terms of details. Of course, there’s some locals who wondered where is their personification, but after Iceland told his boss to not reveal anything about him, she respects the teen’s wishes and told the public that Iceland is not to be bothered with as he is “busy.” 

Like hell he was busy.

For the past month, it has been essentially a vacation for him. No work. Get paid as usual. And just peace and quiet until his boss can figure something out.

Emil lives outside of _ Reykjavík _ \- his capital city - and on a government property that sits on one of his coastal lines. The house itself is nothing special other than its large size, but it is only because - on occasion - all of the Nordics (and a certain British-inspired sailor boy) would stay in his home for a number of days with each having their own personal room. There’s also extra room filled with axes, swords, sniper rifles, and other weapons, but that’s a discussion for another day. However, most of the time, it’s just himself, his puffin, the ocean, and the volcanic activity outside of said house. Nothing much ever happens where he lives as no one goes here since the land belongs to his government. 

And Iceland also doesn’t like unexpected visitors too.

**Leon Wang** _Today at 1:32 PM_

I don’t know how you do it.

|

**Leon Wang** _Today at 1:33 PM_

Living in a quiet place where nothing EVER happened!

The forest only have pandas and bamboo! And nothing else!

I used to live here before England!

How the hell did I survive here?

How the hell I survive living in the same space as _ South Korea _?!

Man, it’s just insanity.

I wanna go back home to the chaoooooos!

I wanna go and drink my heart out at a pub in a winnie the pooh shirt!!!

And not end up in a dress like last timmmmmmme!

Yo ice! Are you still here!?

  


This is the only social connection Emil has. Unexpectedly, he is friends with a personification that never had any historical or political connections to Iceland itself: Leon Wang, otherwise known as the personification of Hong Kong. 

It is a funny story about how he met the Chinese lad back in 1998. Emil came out of a world conference early as the meeting's subject doesn’t directly affect him or Iceland in general. However, he couldn’t go back to his hotel room and take a nap as he came with the rest of the Nordics and couldn’t just leave them. So Emil spent the rest of the time in the lounge, sitting on one of the couches and with a bird sitting on his head. Just he nod off to sleep, someone tugged on his hair, waking him up. Turns out someone decided to sit next to him because - well, he got silver hair and a protected bird species on his head. Surprised and shocked, Emil moves to the farthest corner of the couch as this informally dressed Chinese kid spokes in a British-Chinese mixed accent.

“Oh wow! You look like a character like in Japan’s video games!” he says gleefully. “I’m Hong Kong by the way. You?”

That was the start of an abnormally functional friendship despite having two different cultures and personalities.

  


**Emil S.** _Today at 1:34 PM_

Sorry Hk.

I was trying to read your stuff.

How can you type so fast anyways?

It’s not like English your first language.

|

**Leon Wang** _Today at 1:34 PM_

OOOOOH!

Icy! England used to beat English into my head when I was his colony!

So my English is just as good as my Cantonese and Mandarin

Besides, I used a lot of computers in my daily life

And have internet fights with americans.

I got gud, hahaha.

Emil rolls his eyes. Of course he learned English from England, but to be so good at it? It’s seems a bit weird when considering Emil is much closer to England in terms of distance and had international deals with him before. However, Hong Kong is unquestionably better in English than Emil, who would forget words and phases at times. Hong Kong calls it “adorable” when Emil have to use charades to say what he needs to say while spitting out Icelandic words in a hurry. His computer dings as he see another discord message.

**Leon Wang** _Today at 1:35 PM_

Anyways, how are u?

Don’t ya have the nordics coming over today?

|

**Emil S.** _Today at 1:35 PM_

Oh yeah.

All of the nordics are coming to my house for a few weeks.

I mean Norway doesn’t have a house anymore…

And the others don’t feel safe as they used to be

|

**Leon Wang** _Today at 1:35 PM_

Oof.

|

**Emil S.** _Today at 1:35 PM_

It’s not that bad.

I think of this like Christmas.

We always come together around Christmas time.

Only without the alcohol,

norway’s sudden obsession with butter,

Finland’s santa thing.

And the Ikea stuff!

Oh my god, we always get Ikea as gifts.

|

**Leon Wang** _Today at 1:36 PM_

Speaking of Ikea, can you do me a favor?

I kinda broke China’s table the other day . . .

|

**Emil S.** _Today at 1:36 PM_

And you want to use my 90% Ikea discount?

Sure, I don’t use it often as Sweden wanted me to.

|

**Leon Wang** _Today at 1:36 PM_

YAAAAAAAAY!

I would totally make out with you if you were here!

You’re the best!

|  


**Emil S.** _Today at 1:37 PM_

Ew. Don't come close to me. 

I don't want your gross germs!

|

**Leon Wang** _Today at 1:37 PM_

But I’ll return the favor when you come to my home! I promise!

I’ll help you find a good deal in Ladies’ Market and junk!

We may even find a friendly goldfish that your bird won’t eat!

  


Emil chuckles softly, tossing a crisp at his waiting puffin who catches it with ease. It has been awhile since he could talk with Hong Kong like this. After all, both were busy in their own terms. Iceland have to file papers for his boss and make sure his tourism industry was doing well, and Hong Kong was dealing with his chief executive while dealing with other things in his chaotic social life with humans and nations alike.

Emil almost cannot believe that Hong Kong has human friends and so many of them, but it’s no surprise. Hong Kong is a socialite as well as a businessman, having more than enough experience to run a conglomerate. In fact, Hong Kong often brags about his status of being in the “Four Asian Tigers” group with his ever growing economy. So unlike Emil, who reserved and introverted, Hong Kong is vocal, knows what he wants to get, and isn’t scared to make a international-sized scene, especially when China limits the teen’s freedom in annoying ways. It’s honestly a trait he admired in this kid.

Anyways, he is just happy to be able to talk with his friend after a long time. 

**Leon Wang** _Today at 1:38 PM_

By the way . . .

You okay?

Emil blinks, confused at the question. 

**Emil S.** _Today at 1:38 PM_

Yeah, why?

|

**Leon Wang** _Today at 1:38 PM_

I just wanna check.

Ya know some nations aren't taking the news well.

I mean, I have been in China's home for one month and everyone is worried. 

China, Japan, Taiwan, Macau, and even Korea!

It's like no one can relax and is busier than ever.

Politicians are trying to go back to normal and, as America say it, ignoring the elephant in the room.

So I just wanna ask you if you are holding up well, Iceland. 

Emil sighs in sympathy. He sometimes forgets that he had been lucky throughout the whole ordeal. Hong Kong has been dealing with so much more than he should have experienced. Of course, Hong Kong doesn't have a picture in his files, but it did explicitly stated that Hong Kong is physically sixteen years old. From what he gathered, from both from Hong Kong and the media, that there were protests within his people, claiming that the teen has been an underaged slave to China for countless of years. While good meaning in its message, Hong Kong is unsure of how to handle such energy pointed towards him as a person instead as a whole nation.

After all, no one does.

  


**Emil S.** _Today at 1:39 PM_

Hk, I'll be fine. 

There isn't even a protest in my place. 

|

**Leon Wang** _Today at 1:39 PM_

Okay.

Damn . . . the tone got dark.

I know!

I wanna let’s lighten the mood with yaoi ships!

Like seriously,

it has been a month and the internet is pumping out gay content like no tomorrow!

It’s like when Japan want to make a quick and easy profit from America.

His JAVs are extremely popular with westerners, you know ~

Anyways, I’m going to show england his ship with france

He’s going to flip his shit when he hears about it.

|

**Emil S.** _Today at 1:40 PM_

Hk, stay out of tumblr.

|

**Leon Wang** _Today at 1:40 PM_

Too late!

By the way,

I got a haircut a month back.

Here, take a look!

Ain’t it cute?

|

**Emil S.** _Today at 1:41 PM_

Oh damn…

It’s so short.

I’m not used to it.

Also, is that China?

And is he dancing with a panda?

|

**Leon Wang** _Today at 1:41 PM_

Yup . . .

Just know he always had a panda on him.

And is currently dancing to traditional Chinese music.

And Taiwan changed the music to _ The Plum Blossom _ again.

Now, China is mad.

|

**Leon Wang** _Today at 1:43 PM_

Okay I gotta go now.

There’s sudden interest in martial arts and politics and Taiwan and China are taking things outside.

If I don’t message you within the next hour, you know why.

|

**Leon Wang** _Today at 1:46 PM_

News: Japan brought a katana to a fist fight.

But the pandas are safe.

  
  


Emil waits for a few minutes, but nothing happened. _ Hong Kong . . . _ He thought, closing his laptop. _ I thought the Nordics are dysfunctional, but the Asians are another level! _ At least for the Nordics, they have to bust into a storage room to get some weapons before they have a fight. For the Asians though, they are the _ weapons _! Emil had gone to Hong Kong’s home a few times, and his friend took him to this dojo of Kung Fu or whatever. All he is going to say is that a lot has happened within a few hours, and now, Iceland will never get into a physical fight with Hong Kong or any Asian country since Iceland valued his ability to walk too much.

_ Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! _

“Oi!” a loud voice calls. “Are you there?”

_ Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! _

“Ice! Are you alive?!”

“Bro,” a softer voice enters. “You’re being annoying again.”

_ Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! _

“Knocking won’t make him come out faster.”

“It will if I add an_ axe _ to the equation!”

“An axe!” Emil stands up and dashes to his front door. “You better not break down my door again!” As he yanked back the door, he witnesses a scene that hit too close towards his Christmas memories. 

Denmark, in his boastful glory, laughs whilst pointing at Emil, calling him a fool for falling for the old axe-in-the-door trick. His Norwegian brother sighs, annoyed. Emil assumed that Norway had been putting up with Denmark’s obnoxious behaviors for hours now, especially when he had a large coffee in hand and the hood from his winter jacket is up. Finland and Sweden are taking various bags out of their rental car while making small talk about the weather and Iceland’s home. Finland looks up and sees the youngest Nordics, waving at him. Sweden nods, acknowledging Iceland’s presence.

“Oh my God . . .” Emil huffs, hitting his head on the door. “This is exactly like Christmas.”

“Yeah,” Denmark pats the younger teen’s shoulder. “We love you too, Iceland.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I think I am getting faster in drawing! Wow! I didn't know a fanfic can help me draw faster!
> 
> If you have any questions, leave me a comment and I'll help.
> 
> Webcomic: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/a-goddess-handbook/list?title_no=306030  
DA Account: https://www.deviantart.com/almintoms


	8. North Europe - 2

The sounds of shuffling briefcases and footsteps filled the entire living room. The napping puffin - that is still laying on the table - suddenly woke up to the rough vibrations of four men dragging their luggage across the wooden floors. The bird flies to the shoulder of his owner, complaining into his ear about the interruption of his "beauty sleep" until a soft smack on the beak silenced the creature.

“Iceland!” Finland greets him, setting down some of the luggage. “How were you? I heard almost nothing from your home besides your tourism sales has increased over the last month.”

“Oh,” Emil remembers that statistic very clearly. After all, it’s the  _ only  _ thing that anyone reported from Iceland. “I mean, a lot of people are originally coming over because for . . .” he glances over by the table where Norway sat there, laying his head down in complete silence, “that guy. But they are dropping by Iceland for sightseeing.”

“Speaking of which,” Denmark interrupts, slamming his overstuffed luggage on the floor. “I’m pretty sure that my tourism sales went up as well. _ Copenhagen’s _ packed for the weekend.”

“Me too,” Finland nods. “I’d never seen so much hotels in  _ Helsinki _ so booked before. What about you, Svi? Is _ Stockholm _ packed for the weekend too?”

Sweden grunts in agreement as he looks into Iceland’s fridge.

“We’re out of food,” he states bluntly, closing the door.

Emil turns to the Swede, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “But I brought some groceries the other week,” he put a hand on the kitchen island. “You sure the fridge is empty?”

“Sorry,” Sweden says. “What I meant to say is that bread and fermented shark meat isn’t enough for five.”

Emil blushes, forgetting that he also brought home some _ hákarl _ a few months ago and still haven’t finished it yet.

“Ew!” Denmark exclaims. His face immediately twists in disgust as he pulls the collar of his shirt to his nose. “You still have that smelly fish thing from Christmas?”

“Yes,” Emil wipes his face, trying to cover his blush. “And it’s not ‘smelly fish thing’, Den. It’s my national dish.”

“National dish or not,” Denmark backs away from the kitchen, cautious. “You need to yeet that thing to the next dimension and away from me.” 

“It’s not that bad,” Sweden comes behind Emil, towering over him. “It just tastes bad.”

“Hey!” Emil interjects as his sleepy puffin shifts his position until he gives up and flies over to the couch for a nap.

“He’s right, Ice,” Finland puts a hand on the teen’s shoulder. “I had tried  _ and _ smelled Svi’s  _ surströmming _ , and it’s at least spicy.”

“That’s just the salt burning your tongue,” Sweden corrects. “Anyways, someone has to get the groceries while the rest unpack.”

“I vote for Iceland since he still have that monsterity in his home!” Denmark points a finger at Emil. “He has to buy all of us a drink as an apology!”

“You want to get wasted in the middle of a crisis!” Emil exclaims, already frustrated with the Dane.

“To be honest, Iceland,” Finland says. “We aren’t as fluent in Icelandic as you are. So it’s a good idea for you to get the groceries.”

Emil grunts. Why are so many people so rude today? They look into his fridge, demands for drinks, insult his favorite food, and now Denmark is watching TV with his sleeping bird while the rest of the Nordics (minus Norway too) unpack all of their crap!

“I love this show!” Denmark states loudly, not bothering to undress from his winter gear before laying on the couch. Mr. Puffin yawns before curling on the armrest and shutting his eyes for another nap. 

“Hey Nor!” Denmark shouts. “I remember you being a huge fan of  _ Brennpunkt _ ! You always like the investigative documentary type stuff, eh Norway?”

Norway didn’t move his head from the table, but instead, he sniffly turns his table until his cheeks made contract with the table. That is the first time since he came through the door that Emil could clearly see his brother’s eyes. Now, his brother always had unique eyes as purple isn’t an eye color that everyone sees. Paired with the constant dull and bored look he always has, Norway always has an appearance that made every prime minister’s heart skips when first meeting with the nation.

But now, it’s different.

There were deep dark circles under his eyes as if he has gotten a wink of sleep for the past week. His eyes, while dull before, seems lifeless and static. His skin had been come even paler, almost to the point of being translucent. In a slow and moaning voice, Norway speaks with the little energy he had.

“They had been calling me for  _ two weeks _ ,” he drags. “I don’t think I like Brennpunkt anymore . . .”

With that, he put his head down, avoiding the sunlight peeking through the window. Norway sits there, still like a statue and never bothering with the rest of the Nordics. Emil had never seen him like this. Sure, Norway always look a little tired when he’s around people, but he definitely needs a good eight hours of sleep.

“Oi,” Emil walks over to his brother, nudging Norway’s shoulder. “Your room have been unlocked since Christmas. Go and use it.”

Norway groans. “Where is it again?” he says, mumbling through the wood. 

“One stair upwards and the first door to your left.”

A moment past before Norway sluggishly sit up. When he stands, he stumbles a bit before catching himself by grabbing the chair. “Also . . .” Norway stares at his younger brother, barely having the strength to keep his eyes open. “Can you call me ‘Big Brother’ now? It would make me feel better . . .”

“What?” Emil taken aback by the request. However, before he declines once again, Norway’s tired eyes widen, pleading with the teen. Emil sighs, looking away from his brother as a blush spreads across his face.

“B-Big Brother,” he says, straightfaced and internally recoiling at the title.

“. . . Thanks,” Norway smiles lightly, walking slowly towards the stairs.

The whole room is silent, except for the television that was put on full volume by Denmark. Emil could feel the stares from the remaining Nordics on the back of his head. Even his tough-talking bird is staring at him with a raised brow. He grits his teeth before turning to them. As he was about to say something, Denmark comments. 

“You know,” Denmark grins. “I think that’s the highlight of his day.”

* * *

  
  


Emil looks outside from the window, watching the scene change as the vehicle moves. 

“So the town is this way?” Finland smoothly turns the wheel towards the next lane.

“Yeah,” Emil says, never once looking back to the Finnish man. 

“ . . . You have been so quiet since we left the house,” Finland says. “Is something bothering you, Ice?”

“Um, no,” Emil moves away from the window.

“Okay,” Finland says. “By the way, have you heard this year’s Eurovision may be cancelled?”

“I’m sorry?” Emil spins around, looking directly at Finland. “You serious?”

“I’m serious.”

“Oh my God!” Emil sinks into his seat. “I’d gotten my entry ready for nothing?”

“I said it may be cancelled,” Finland reassures the teen. “But it’s definitely going to be delayed due to this -”

“Nations revealed thing?” Emil sharply answers, irritated. “Yeah, I know. It’s not like everyday where there’s immortal beings that can affect your whole country by casually interacting with other immortals.”

Finland didn’t say anything. Knowing Iceland, it’s best if he lets the teen rant off before speaking himself. Being the youngest Nordic, he is at the stage where he’s highly emotional, even if he doesn’t appear to be. In fact, he has a long history of being a  _ little  _ passive aggressive with anyone, especially his bosses. Hell, when he’d gotten a bad illness from his 2008 economic crisis, he had called his boss - who was traveling away from his country at the time - and said, “I have been coughing blood every other second. I have diarrhea and a fever. My currency is worth nothing now. If I died, tell Hong Kong he can have my puffin.” 

Nevertheless, his prime minister came back less than a week later. 

“This sucks so much . . .” Emil pouts, sinking deeper into the seat. “I finally produced a song that is unique and have so much meaning and style, but it’s now a waste . . .”

“Don’t look at it that way, Iceland,” Finland reassure. “Think about this. Sweden won’t screwed us over with the jury votes this year.”

“But he will screw us over with the jury votes next year . . .”

Finland chuckles nervously, unsure what to do with the now depressed teen. Well, until an idea strikes his mind.

“Well, why don’t you let me hear it?” he asks.

“Huh?” Emil sits up.

“You have the song on your phone,” Finland makes a turn on the road. “If you are not shy about it, can I hear it?”

Emil digs into his pockets and pulls his Iphone out. He stares at the thin device, contemplating the decision.

“I don’t know,” he says. “This song is not for everyone . . .”

“Well, it’s fine if you don’t want me to hear it,” Finland states gently. “It’s your choice, Iceland.”

After a few quiet moments, Emil grits his teeth and turns on his phone. 

“You can only hear it once, Fin,” Emil taps his screen. “And don’t tell the others. I’m only showing this to you since you like metal music.” 

Finland gasps, taking his eyes off of the road and stares at Emil with both awe and surprise. 

"You decided to do metal this year?" He asks with glowing grin on his face. "Oh my, I'm so proud of you, Iceland."

As the compliment slips out from, Emil buries his red hot face into his jacket as he tries to sync his phone with the car’s bluetooth system. 

“Also, is that why you asked for _ leather  _ for Christmas?” Finland asks casually. “While leather clothes is important for metal, you know there should be  _ way _ more leather involved. The quantity you asked for isn’t even enough for a shirt.”

In the midst of his own embarrassment, Emil buries his whole face into his jacket like a turtle retracting into his own shell. However, it was his fault to pick a musical artist that’s into  _ BDSM  _ for Eurovision.

  
  


* * *

The nearest town was one where everyone knew each and anyone who visits. For the past few years, the Icelandic personification had use this town as a hub where he can escape his capital and all of political stress of his job. Appearance wise, the town is overly simple and boring. There’s only one pub that everyone goes to. There is no crime or drama to talk about. Every father is a fisherman with traditional values and well-meaning heart. Every son and daughter are dreamers who desires to make it big in a world filled with chaos. It is a peaceful sanctuary where one can escape to when one feeling overwhelmed by nonsensical things.

But this loving community isn’t immune to the latest news.

Everytime the teen went into town for the past month, people keep bringing the “shocking” news. “Oh my God, Emil!” they said. “This was so unexpected!” While they talk and spread their theories about the personifications, they wonder what kind of nation personification they had as Icelandics. After all, the country of Iceland doesn’t stick out and don’t have much of a stereotype to stick to. So what would they be like?

“Iceland is probably a burly man like me!” a father said. “We are known for volcanoes, you know! Our personification must reflect that!”

“I think Iceland could be a lovely young lady,” a grandma said. “We rarely have crime here. So a gentle and sweet girl will probably represent us, right?”

“Iceland is definitely going to be weird like the rest of the personifications,” another teen said. “Seriously! I can bet that Finland’s going to be a serial killer or something! And if Sweden doesn’t look like diabetes and watches Pewdiepie, I’ll throw a fit.”

Ignoring the irony of the situation, Emil understands that these people want their personification to come out. Just to stop hiding and speak to the people directly and understand their problems. However, what these humans do not understand is that personification have no need to speak with their people. They already know their thoughts and desires as it was second nature to them. They do not need to go out and interact with their people for they already know about their problems.

Or at least, that’s Emil’s excuse for not publicly revealing himself.

As the car parks in the store’s lot, Finland turns to the teen with a firm look.

“Okay, just to be clear,” he starts. “My name is Tino. Your name’s Emil still, right?”

“Yeah,” Iceland confirms. “And remember, this town is  _ very _ small. They don’t have much foreigners even if they are from the country next door.”

“Should I prepare to be offended by Finnish stereotypes?” Finland unbuckles his seatbelt.

“We  _ are  _ stereotypes, Fin,” Emil retorts, mimicking the same actions. “Just ignore the comments and everything’s peachy.”

Finland exits the car along with Emil. “Well,” he says. “It’s not like I would completely understand what they are saying. I mean, I’m speaking Swedish right now since I understand it better.”

“But you’re just fluent enough to understand my native tongue,” Emil retorts. “But it’s fine. I’ll do all the talking.”

“Thanks.”

The store was quiet and almost empty besides the few employees who either manned the cashier position or was restocking the shelves. It was quite a small store in comparison to the ones in the capital. It’s just large enough for this small town, but however, it was limiting to their diverse friend group. The tile floor clinks against their shoes as Finland grabs a small basket for Emil and two for himself. 

“Alright!” Finland cheerfully states. “You have the list, right?”

“Yeah,” Emil nods, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. “Eggs, milk, beer, an unholy amount of butter, flour - Hey, wait? What’s up with the butter?”

Emil looks towards Finland, who chuckling guiltily. “It’s for Lukas,” Finland explains, using his brother’s human name. “I thought Den could make some treats for him since, y’know, he’s more than depressed right now.”

“Oh,” Emil sighs, knowing full well that he can’t deny that man butter. “Just go easy on me. I only have so much in my paycheck.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“He brought hundreds of kilos in butter last Christmas,” Emil states, calling the chilling memory when a truck pulled up to his property with an order for a “Lukas Thomassen.” But that’s not the biggest problem he had on that Christmas. Like where the hell is he supposed to store all of that butter? His poor fridge was almost bursting open with the buttery mess, oozing at the seams. But he still got a lot more butter to deal with. Just how in God’s name Norway do this every year? Well, he stated before that he used a spell to create another dimension to store all of his butter, but that’s just magical bullshit. And magic is bullshit. Like when you see trolls or fairies or whatever, it’s not magic. It’s a mental illness. 

And don’t mention what kind of shit Norway pulled in response of the Butter Crisis of 2011. He tried to sacrifice a baby goat to  _ Gefjun _ \- the goddess of farms and  abundance  \- for butter! For!  _ Butter! _ Norway said don’t make fun of him when there’s no butter in  _ his _ house, but it’s impossible after he tried to  _ slaughter _ a baby goat in Sweden’s basement! 

“I can see you still have trauma from Lukas’ butter habits,” Finland states, putting a hand on the teen’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll buy the butter myself.”

Emil let out a sigh of relief, knowing he won’t be burdened by the cost of butter. However, he needs to deal where to put it. He quickly shakes his head, ridding himself from the thought. He’ll deal with it later, but for now, he needs to buy food and booze for five people. 

As they scan the aisles and pick out the items, Emil notices something out of the corner of his eye. It’s a blue burr, but it isn’t so obvious. He ignores it until it shows up again in another aisle. That blue thing is staring back at him and Finland. He turns his head towards it, only to disappear in the nearest corner. Emil blinks, wondering if he saw it correctly.

“You okay, Emil?” Finland asks, shoving a bottle of Danish bitters in the growing basket.

“Yeah . . .’ he mutters out, pushing the invading thought away.

They walks to checkout, finding a bored teen tapping away on his phone. As Finland slams the first bottle, the worker jumps, agasped. 

“E-Emil!” he says, looking directly at the familiar face. “Jesus! Give me a warning before you do that.”

“It wasn’t me,” Emil responds casually. “It’s Tino.”

“Tino . . . ?” The teen wonders until the Finnish man clears his throat. He spins towards the sound, finding a patiently waiting man a few years his senior. The teen gasps in realization. 

“Oh Tino!” he says. “You’re one of Emil’s friends that dresses as Santa last christmas!”

“Ah, yes!” Finland confirms with a smile, trying to form words with the limited Icelandic he knows. “Thank you!”

The teen nods to the man before turning to his workstation to scan the items. 

“So,” the teen picks up another tub of butter. “Emil! Have you heard the news yet? About the recent ‘discovery’?”

Emil sighs. He should have expected this in the first place. “Yes,” he replies bluntly. 

“Oh really?” the teen blinks in shock. “I honestly thought you didn’t know. You’re kinda the person that would have known this stuff last.”

“Yeah, but I don’t care to be honest.”

“Really!” the teen slams another tub on the counter. “How can you  _ not  _ care? It’s literally a historical moment! Like, aren’t you a government worker too? You should kinda care about this too since, y’know, you worked for your nation!”

“Nations are never going to interact with me,” Emil lies. “I mean, I only filed papers from home. I do nothing of importance.”

“Even with that,” the teens rings them up. “I wonder how many people our personification of Iceland interacted without knowing it. By the way, that will be hundred-and-fifty.”

After paying, Emil and Finland grabs the paper bags with Finland grabbing the heaviest. Just as they were about to walk away, the teen made one last comment.

“You know . . .” he says. “You look like _ that  _ kid.”

They freeze. Even Finland - the person who doesn’t know much about Icelandic - heard his words and turns to Emil with a terrified expression. They know  _ exactly _ what he is talking about. After all, that picture is posted throughout the entire region of Scandinavia. Emil take a deep breathe.  _ I can pretend my way out of this _ , Emil thought, turning back to the worker.

“What are you talking about?” he says.

“You looked like the Snow-Skinned Boy,” the teen replies, grabbing a small magazine from the rack nearby. “I mean, look at this.”

Emil internally cringes when he see that damn picture of a  _ gossip  _ issue. With large words saying “Norway’s Illegitimate Child?” and the black and white picture of him and Norway circled in red, Emil wonders how far this thing will go.

“You really look at him,” the teen points at the picture.

“There’s people that looked like  _ Queen Elizabeth of England _ ,” Emil cooliy states. “But they are not her still.”

“But it’s not everyday when someone has naturally pale hair,” the teen puts the magazine back. 

“I bleached it.”

“I had never seen you go to a barber for the two year you lived here.” 

Emil sliencely chokes on his words. He held the tearing feeling in his gut and grits his teeth.  _ It’s fine _ , he thought, calming himself down.  _ I can get out of this. _

“I always go Reykjavík when I need a haircut or a touch up,” Emil says, blank faced. “Do you trust that psychopathic hairdresser that always smells of crack despite not smoking it? If not, don’t judge me.”

“You have purple eyes,” the teen points, leading on the counter. “Like Norway’s.”

“I don’t know what you are trying to say, but stop,” Emil huffs, shifting the bags in his arms. “It’s ridiculous. I’m just some guy who happens to work for the government, and nothing more.”

The teen pauses for a few seconds, looking down in deep thought. “Fine,” he says. “I’m sorry. You just really look like him.”

“But I’m not him,” Emil states bluntly, leaving the store with Finland to follow him. There was complete silence between them until they enter the car. The second they put away the bags and the doors closed, Finland turn to Emil, who’s swiftly buckles his seatbelt, with a wide-eyed shocked expression. 

“ _ What just happened? _ ” he says in his native language. 

“I don’t know,” Emil responds, his heart almost bursting open from stress. “But holy shit, that’s a close one!”

“ _ Please don’t let Norway heard you cursing, _ ” Finland put his seatbelt on and start the car. “ _ But let’s get out of here before that kid questions us again _ .”

“Right!”

As the car pulls out from the store, the two nations never notice the young boy in the blue jacket that was holding a phone on camera mode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I have mixed feeling with Iceland's entry with this year's Eurovision. It's very bold and creative and have a good beat, but I am not into the "metal" aesthetic. I dunno. It's my opinion. You can like whatever. However, my brother may like it if I were to show it to him! He love metal music! Personally, my favorite entry i Norway's. Like I got shivers from listening to it. It's so good!
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much for reading!
> 
> My DA Account is: https://www.deviantart.com/almintoms  
My webcomic is at: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/a-goddess-handbook/list?title_no=306030


	9. North Europe - 3

They all are amazing makers of delicious sweets. It’s a little-known fact about the Nordics that everyone seemingly forgotten, but it is true. Denmark can make, well, danish pastries and cookies. Sweden can make pancakes, crumb pie, and more. Finland can make a killer _ runeberg torte _. Iceland can make his beloved black licorice, either dripped in chocolate, coating another treat, or even as hard shell for ice cream. Norway’s christmas cakes are so buttery that it could make your heart melt as well as making it go to cardiac arrest. 

However, Iceland isn’t a judge of the butter content in his cakes as it turns out his licorice may cause heart attacks if consumed in large amounts. But he’s immortal so heart attacks doesn’t affect him.

So as the beautiful smell of freshly-baked puff pastry filled the kitchen and spills into the rest of the house, Norway’s month waters while he’s in his room. _ Wienerbrød . . . _he thought, closing the book he was reading. While he hates how annoying and immature Denmark is, Norway has no willpower to resist the smell of buttered baking in the oven. He set the book down and walks downstairs. In the back of his mind, there’s something wrong. Something is burning. Something is crashing down. The bridges of society are breaking down. 

Just something’s wrong, but when he went down, Norway sees that everything’s normal still.

He sees his little brother, his bird, and Finland sitting on the couch, watching a series on Netflix. He heard movement in the kitchen, ranging from metal hit each other to a whisk hitting the side of the bowl. It was surprisingly peaceful for a group of former vikings and a guy who almost murdered Russia that one time. It’s actually quite love -

“Goddammit!” an annoying voice screeches and metal clashes. “Not again!”

“Did you use the mitts, Den?” Iceland yells back, not taking his eyes off from the television. 

“No . . .” Denmark weakly mutters, walking in the living room with a towel wrapped around his hand. “I kinda forgot - Nor?”

Norway blinks, realizing that he wasn’t in his bubble like before and is forced to interact with the idiot. 

“Yeah,” he replies. 

“Do you have some ointment?” Denmark asks. “I got -”

“Got burn? Don’t care,” Norway walks away. “And don’t whine. It’ll heal in a few moments.” 

Leaving Denmark stunned, Norway enters into the kitchen where Sweden was stirring away in a pot. However, it wasn’t long for the taller man to notice him. “I thought you were sick,” Sweden bluntly says. 

“I got better, Svi,” he replies back.

“Well, can you get the stuff from the oven?” Sweden reaches to the nearest cabinet and grabs a bottle of spice. “I can’t walk away from this. It burns easily.”

Norway didn’t say anything as he approaches the over, taking a thick kitchen towel from the nearest drawer. As he opens the oven door, he sees a braided loaf filled with red goopy jam, perfectly golden with egg wash and with granulated sugar sprinkled all over. _ I thought that guy like custard fillings more _ , Norway thought, referring to Denmark who’s loudly complaining to the others in the living room. _ Jam fillings are more of my thing. _ However, he pushes the thought in the back of his mind and gently set the pan on the marble counter. 

“Thanks,” Sweden mutters. “And I’m sorry to ask for more, but dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Can you tell the rest that?”

"Sure," Norway replies back, walking outside. Just as he exits out, he sees Denmark lays in an armchair and still whining about the burn he received.

"Just run it under cool water, Den," Finland suggests, slightly annoyed by the man's overdramatic behavior. 

"But it hurts more like that!" Denmark yells before receiving a smack behind the head. 

"Stop disturbing the peace, bro," Norway states, his hand ready to smite the country. "Speak like that again and your royal family will become apart of my royal family."

"What kind of threat is that?" Denmark asks back. 

"A threat that you're going to find out if you don't stop talking."

“Dinner’s ready!” Sweden shouts, carrying the pot towards the table. 

“Also, dinner’s ready,” Norway relays, remembering the job he was supposed to do.

Suddenly, the men rose from their seats, stretching their limbs and yawning quietly. Denmark finally decided to heed Finland’s advice and walk to the kitchen to run the burn under cool water. “I’ll be back!” Denmark exclaims to no one. “Don’t eat all the vegetables, guys!”

Well, that requires Norway to eat all of the vegetables. It’s a challenge he accepted then.

As the Norwegian sit around the table, a wide-rimmed bowl was put in front of them. Upon looking on it, Norway realizes the dish. _ Lapskaus . . . _He thought, smelling the aromatic scent of boiled meat and potatoes. Norwegian beef stew? This is one of Norway’s favorite dinners. Usually, they make this homely dish on a cold winter day, but it wasn’t even that cold outside. Therefore, what’s going on?

. . . Were they trying to cheer him up? Admittedly, Norway hadn’t been in the greatest mood since he met up with the Nordics, and the jam-filling pastry and the lapskaus were things he loved. Or maybe he was being egocentric? After all, the treat and stew were things all of the Nordics enjoyed. Even Greenland would come all the away from his tiny farm or research job to eat lapskaus, and that’s saying a lot since that guy will never leave his home unless Denmark dragged him out there first.

“Norway?” Finland calls out, dripping his spoon in the thick soup. “Are you still sick?”

“Ah . . .” Norway picks his own utensil as an attempt to remain normal. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Emil asks, handing his puffin his own plate. “You seems out of it.”

“I’m sure,” Norway states. “My economy is perfectly fine and strong.”

_ Buzz! Buzz! _

“Oh!” Emil grabs his phone from his pocket and put it against his ear. 

“Iceland!” Finland calls, agasped. “There are no phones when we are eating.”

“It’s my boss, Fin!” Emil hisses before going back to his phone. “Yes ma’am?”

Finland sighs, knowing Emil can’t put the device down with his boss on the line. However, within a minute in the call, Emil drops his phone to the floor. His skin became paler as he struggles to breathe. His eyes were wide and filled with terror. Suddenly, the men around the table put down their spoons in unison and turn to the petrified teen. Emil reaches to the floor and swipes his phone off.

“Are you sure?” he quickly asks, pressing the device against his ear. “So . . . Okay. But how much? . . . Fuck!” 

Emil turn off the phone and slams it against the table. His back hunches, trying desperately to not fall off from his chair. Sweden gasps the young teen’s shoulder to support his balance. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ fuck _,” Emil whispers, almost on the edge of tears. Finland hovers over the boy, trying to comfort. Mr. Puffin flies on top of his master’s head, telling him to snap out of it and tell the guys what’s wrong. Norway’s brows furrow in a mixture of shock and confusion.

“Take a deep breath first!” he yells over. “You can’t speak when there’s no air in your lungs!”

Emil didn’t heed his advice. He instead slaps Sweden’s hand away. “Go away!” Emil eclaims. “You guys are taking my air!”  
  


Before the rest of them could have tried to wrestle the information out of them, Denmark come out from the kitchen, rubbing his fully healed hand. “Ahh . . .” he sighs in relief. "Running this thing over cold water for a few minutes really helped. Hey Finland, thanks for the -”

Denmark pauses as he reached to the table. The scene was not shocking, but not what he had expected. Norway was glaring at him more intensely than normal. Sweden’s usual emotionless face had the smallest hints of worry. Finland was the only one that is normal, but Iceland looks like he was about to hurl a lung.

“. . . What’s going on?” Denmark asks slowly.

Just about Norway speaks, Iceland answers.

“They know . . .” he says in the smallest voice he could muster.

“Know?” Finland asks, bending close closer to the teen. “Who’s they? And what do they know?”

Iceland sits up with the support of Finland, still having a lack of balance. A chunk is stuck in his throat as he tried to speak, but when he finally answers, Iceland speaks in his bluntest tone.

“My people know about me now.”

* * *

  
  
  


_ #4 ON TRENDING _

**Snow-Skinned Boy in Iceland (ENG Sub)**

1,242,442 views • March 25, 20XX

By PillBoi

A conversation I had recorded in an Icelandic store.

SHOW MORE

  
  


10,276 Comments • Sort By 

  
  


**Oreo Sans** 12 Minutes Ago 

He is a nation. That picture was taken in ww2 and he haven’t age a bit. There’s no argument here.

**Likes: 1.2K **

  
  
  


**DarMister** 1 Hour Ago 

This was taken in Iceland. Why is he in iceland?

**Likes: 1K**

▽ View 2 replies

**Bakerloo **48 Minutes Ago 

**@DarMister** It’s pretty much confirmed that he IS Iceland himself. However, we don’t know if that guy he’s with is a nation too.

|

**DarMister **32 Minutes Ago

Yeah, but how can we be sure that kid is Iceland. It could have been the blond guy he’s with too! HE could be Iceland.

  
  
  


**Sara Lee** 44 Minutes Ago

He’s so young, but Iceland is hundreds of years old. How could it have been possible?

**Likes: 853**

▽ View 6 replies

**MAMMI **32 Minutes Ago

**@Sara Lee **From we know, personifications age based on economic prosperity instead of time. 

|

**Sara Lee **30 Minutes Ago

**@MAMMI **Jesus! I feel like I’m in Henry Potter. 

|

**PYear **29 Minutes Ago

**@Sara Lee** Iceland look like he’s sixteen or something like that. And it’s so fucked. Just think what he had witnessed over the years while not being fully developed. I think this is the first time I ever considered how screwed up these nations could be. 

|

**Termate **24 Minutes Ago

**@PYear** If you think that fucked, look at Moldova. He’s physically eight years old, but he had lived through the clusterfuck known as the Soviet Union. If he’s eight now, how old was he when the Soviet Union was a thing?!?! I can’t imagine how can a kid younger than 10 experiencing those kind of horrors, much less 8!

Also, why no one is talking about Moldova being a fucking toddler or the fact that Romania is a literal vampire?! Actually, why are we not talking about any Eastern European countries besides Russia and Ukraine’s anime-sized titties?!

|

**Carl B.** 17 Minutes Ago 

**@PYear** There has been a theory surfing throughout the internet where Iceland is Norway’s son due to appearance alone. However, it hasn't been able to stand on its own until now. Iceland is a country where their first permanent settlers were Norwegian (Here’s the wiki page for it: link).

According to America's own files, he said to “inherited a lot of things from Britain” and said things like “Britain is like my Dad with all of the shit he put up with when I was a dumb kid” and “Britain is such an old man, but he’s an old man that I like.” While this can be interpreted as a romantic interest between America and Britain (thanks to the internet’s Rule 34, we now have porn between the two, you fucking degenerates), this is more likely a father-son relationship. Therefore, it’s highly possible now that - if this kid is the nation of Iceland - that his father is Norway as the first settlers were Norwegian.

|

**Maki Endo** 10 Minutes Ago

**@Sara Lee **You got to admit. He’s hella cute like his dad.

* * *

  
  


**Norwegian Politician confirms the Snow-Skinned Boy’s Identity**

**By: Maria Bloom, BBC**

_ March 28, 20XX _

On March 25, 20XX, a video on YouTube went viral. The content of the video contains the infamous Snow-Skinned Boy - the mysterious figure that was discovered in an old World War II picture with the Norwegian Personification - having a conversation with a store employee in Iceland. While there have been countless theories surfacing the internet, we finally got confirmation about the Snow-Skinned Boy’s identity.

A member of Norway’s _ Storting _\- or “The Great Assembly” in translation - relays his experience when working with countless of personifications, which includes Norway and the Snow-Skinned Boy. According to the member, the Snow-Skinned Boy is the official personification of Iceland and Norway's offspring.

“Their relationship has only been confirmed in the eighties, but they’re blood-related nevertheless,” he stated. “However, they always have a brotherly bond. If not, a parental one. After all, Norway is one of the people that raised Iceland to be the country he is today.”

Does the relevance of family played a role with international affairs? If so, how? Does this mean that personifications can reproduce and create new countries? How the biology of countries work exactly? These are the questions that many are wondering on. However, for now, it is left unanswered.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**Tess’ Fanon News Blog**

**Scandinavia’s Master Page:**

  * **Snow-Skinned Boy’s Identity Revealed (March 29, 20XX)******
  * **Snow-Skinned Boy’s Video in Iceland (March 26, 20XX)**
  * Analysis of the Snow-Skinned Boy in Norway’s WWII Picture (March 20, 20XX)
  * Norway’s Press Conference (March 4, 20XX)

**. . .**

**(READ MORE)**

  
  


**Snow-Skinned Boy’s Identity Revealed**

**By: Tess**

_ March 29, 20XX _

So a member of our lord and savior’s - Norway - Great Assembly had spilled the beans about the mysterious Snow-Skinned Boy! And it just confirms our headcanons. So basically, this kid is Norway’s son and the personification of Iceland! And everyone loses their shit over it.

I mean who won’t? This kid is literally sixteen of age and looks like diabetes! Plus, he’s technically legal! Like Iceland had been a country since the 1940s! So that means we can fuck him, right?! For example, this screenshot:

Look how he blushes. Look at how the red spread across his pale cheeks. How his hair moves ever so slightly! This kid is perfection like his dad! In fact, he may be even more popular than Norway and North Italy! 

Across all of Tumblr to Ao3 to DeviantArt, everyone is worshipping our baby, Iceland. We had made fanart, fanfiction, and more than I could described. And now that our headcanon is confirmed to be true, it will lead to degeneracy. 

If you think I would approve of this kind of shit, YOU WILL BE PROVEN WRONG, BITCHES!!!!

First of all, think of this? If you have been writing Norway X Snow-Skinned Boy fics (And trust me, I had seen a lot), they instantly became incest fics and they are even more problematic when you considered that they are also RPF (Real People Fiction). Now, I will not put down people who put all of that time and effort in doing research when this kind of fic, but the problem that a lot of people who wrote RPF are children. Children who don’t know any better.

One Direction and BTS had faced a similar problem when fans had distorted their image and created a character that isn’t their own. It dehumanized them (But it’s questionable with Nations as they are not human by definition). It makes us forget that they are real fucking people. Leading to a group of fans shouting their ships names in a greet-and-meet and then demanding their ship to kiss because “OwO It’s so cute and not disturbing since they are . . . Oh wait.”

And if you continue with these incest fics of REAL PEOPLE, then you are no better than those fucked up Sasaeng Fans. Like jeez! I just read a fanfic where a seme dad is pounding into his uke son! There’s definitely no problems here! They’re blood-related father and son FUCKING EACH OTHER.

The End, motherfuckers. 

  
  


Comments:

()**re0** 5 Hours Ago 

It sounds like someone got offended. I get it if you don’t like the ship, but don’t bash people for it. Just let people have their fun.

▽ View All replies

**Magpie** 5 Hours Ago

I don’t think the problem is because she is offended. I think she’s upset that people would continue to make incest fics of people who are literally father and son. Like I don’t wanna read something that involved me having sex with my dad.

|

**TeruBozu **4 Hours Ago

Yeah, but I think if you wrote Norway X Snow-Skinned Boy (I guess, it’s now Norway X Iceland) fics before the reveal, I think you should get a pass. You didn’t know it’s incesious at the time. Plus, it doesn’t really affect them irl. 

|

**Magpie** 4 Hours Ago

I disagreed. Have you read the part with the crazy Kpop fans shouting ship names at the idols?

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**Leon Wang** _Today at 11:32 PM_

Hey Iceland.

I heard the news. Are you okay?

As he stares at the screen, curled in his blanket, Emil still couldn't processed what just happened. It has been a little over a week, and Emil barely moves from his room. The entire media circus is eating the whole history of Iceland and distorting it. Anytime in history that Iceland got involved with Norway, people are taking into the context of a father-son relationship. Some will say “Norway’s an abusive piece-of-shit father because of this.” Others will say “Did Norway had an incestous relationship with his son because of this event?”

People are making ridiculous assumptions while they don’t know fully about the relationships between nations. Emil isn’t even Norway’s son! Norway never had a son! Emil is just his little brother that Norway founded alone in the middle of a frozen wasteland with a damn bird!

**Emil S.** _ Today at 11:33 PM _

I’m not going to lie. I’m scared.

|

**Leon Wang** _Today at 11:33 PM_

I’m really sorry to hear that.

But it’s going to be okay at the end.

|

**Emil S.** _ Today at 11:33 PM _

How do you know?

Have you looked at the internet?

Have you seen what people have been saying about me?

“Norway’s son.” “Incest” “Abuse”

“Baby” “Victim”

There is so much more, but you get the idea.

|

  
  


**Leon Wang** _Today at 11:34 PM_

Again, I’m really sorry.

If you need something or help, I’m here for you.

I have been going through something similar at home too.

Emil blinks, confused.

**Emil S.** _ Today at 11:35 PM _

What do you mean?

Are YOU okay too?

A few minutes pass before Hong Kong respond.

**Leon Wang** _Today at 11:37 PM_

It depends how you see it.

Remember the protests I mentioned before?

They became bigger. 

Not that I'm complaining, it’s for a really good cause

And it’s in my name. Not my country name. My human name.

Somehow, someone figured out my human name after hacking into my administration’s database.

Thank god, I didn’t put any pictures of myself there or else it would be a bigger disaster.

But whatever, my people are now shouting my name in the streets.

There are videos on Reddit with the protest chanting my name. 

“Free Leon Wang! Free Leon Wang!”

Or that’s a rough translation.

If you know Cantonese, you know there’s more to it.

Honestly, I’m truly happy that a lot of my people cared for me so much.

But at the same time, it’s like absolutely terrifying.

I honestly don’t know what to do.

|

**Emil S.** _ Today at 11:38 PM _

I’m so sorry, Hk.

I have no idea.

I have been avoiding reddit the past week and I honestly have no idea.

|

**Leon Wang** _Today at 11:39 PM_

It’s fine. I didn’t expect you to know.

Besides, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad to be in China’s house.

If I was at home, I would be even more stressed.

But one day, I have to go back and face my people.

|

**Emil S.** _ Today at 11:39 PM _

You’re much braver than me.

|

**Leon Wang** _Today at 11:39 PM_

Don’t put yourself down.

You have a press conference less than a week.

Emil almost chokes at the reminder. Yes, as a response from his prime minster, the personification of Iceland will do a press conference to clear up some rumours surfacing on the internet. It is not something he wanted to do, but his boss is forcing him to man up and do it. 

Emil feels like dying with each day that comes closer to that dreaded date. 

**Leon Wang** _Today at 11:40 PM_

Iceland, listen.

I’m not going back home until the protests calmed down a little or I got sick living here.

That may take a few months.

You are going to speak directly to your people in a press conference in a few days.

In this situation, I’m the one who’s being a pussy.

You’re the one with the dick.

Or that’s not how you say it in English?

Anyways, You’re the brave one here!

The stress of all of this is making me forget the English that England shoved down my throat.

And England had beat me over the head with a rolled up newspaper like a dog!

|

**Emil S.** _ Today at 11:42 PM _

Thanks, man.

That makes me feel a little better.

But still, I’m still scared shitless about this.

If it wasn’t for that video, I would stay home and go sightseeing over by the _ fjords _.

I am not a person for this type of stuff.

|

**Leon Wang** _Today at 11:42 PM_

You know, before England,

China had a saying for this type of behavior.

It’s short and blunt.

“The brave ones are the ones who feared the most”

It’s okay to be scared, but bravery isn’t about not being scared.

It’s about going through with something even though you’re scared.

|

**Emil S.** _ Today at 11:43 PM _

Very philosophic, but I still not looking forward to the conference.

At least you tried.

|

**Leon Wang** _Today at 11:43 PM_

At least I tried.

Also, China is calling everyone now.

It seems like a family meeting or something.

Brb. Bye.

|

**Emil S.** _ Today at 11:43 PM _

Bye.

* * *

  
  


It has been days since Iceland left his room. He barely went out to eat anything or speak with the rest of the Nordics, and it’s beyond concerning to every member. Finland had knocked on his door several times a day, each receiving a small “go away” from the teen. Sweden had tried the same method only to receive the cold reply like Finland. Denmark tried to scare Iceland out of his room via by busting in there while swinging his battle axe from the viking era. However, the door is locked and Denmark can’t break the door as it will just angered the teen.

Now, their last hope is on Norway as he stands in front of his brother’s bedroom door.

With a plate of Emil’s favorite dish, Norway takes a small sigh. “Y’know,” his brother’s pet bird files on top of Norway’s head and sit on his hair. “The brat probably won’t open the door even if you are his brother.”

“I know that,” Norway replies coolly. “However, he has to get out of there and eat something.”

Mr. Puffin shifts his body in the man’s pale hair. “I know the kid for a long time. He doesn't like to eat when he’s upset.”

Norway ignores the bird and raises a hand to knock on the door. There’s no immediate reply, but after repeating it a few times, he heard something.

“Stop . . .” a small voice mutters. 

“Iceland,” Norway speaks. “You haven’t eat anything today.”

“I don’t care . . .”

“But I do!” Norway demands, his voice raises a tab above his normal tone. He takes a deep breath, calming himself down. “Just . . .” he says, his voice weak. “Just please eat something.”

A minute passed and the door opens ajar. Norway sees his brother’s face for the first time in days.

His skin was translucent as Norway can see light blue veins across Emil’s forehead. His hair was a mess and covered in grease. And his eyes seems to be covered in some kind of darkness as if he had been staring at the void for hours on end. Norway hands him the plate, which Emil grabs without caring for the contents. This is shocking to Norway as the plate contains some of his brother’s favorite foods, roast lamb with mash. Just as Emil close the door, Norway put a foot between the door and its frame and stopping it. Emil huff in annoyance and pull the door open and slams it against his brother’s feet. Norway didn’t move. Emil tries again, but Norway still doesn’t move. “What do you want still?” Emil asks in a growl.

“We need to talk,” Norway states.

“Go away.”

“I can’t. We need to talk.”

Emil glares at the man before opening the door wide. “You have ten minutes.”

Norway enters into the room. The room itself was a mess with clothes scattered across the floor and bed sheets overturned. Norway wants to say it’s because his little brother is a teenager, but he can’t. Iceland is_ hundreds of years old _. There’s no excuse for it. 

Emil sits on his bed, laying his plate on his lap. “Let’s get it over with,” he says. 

Norway pulls a chair from a nearby desk and sit in it, across from his brother. “Okay,” he starts. “You need to cut, um, whatever you are doing right now.”

“Stop what?” Emils asks, fully knowing the answer.

“I mean,_ this _,” Norway picks up a stained shirt behind the chair he’s sitting in. “I know you don’t like that fact everyone knows who you are now, but I don’t have the choice either.”

Emil huffs in frustration and anger as he quickly slides the plate from his lap and look Norway straight in the eyes. “Listen here,” he firmly states. “Don’t tell me this. You have been like _ this _when humans discovered you! So don’t be a hypocrite and let me be!”

“But the thing is that I still function despite it,” Norway calmly says. “However, you had done nothing since that YouTube video.”

“You functioned_ barely _ ,” Emil spits, his brows furrowed. “On that day where you came, you barely move. You barely _ talk _, and that’s saying something since you only talk to pixies and shit.”

“Language,” Norway states sharply. 

“No, and give me back my puffin.”

“Sorry?”

Emil points towards his own head as Norway realizes the sudden weight sitting on top of his head. Mr. Puffin files over to his nation and take refugee on his owner’s shoulder.  
  
“But Norway’s right, kid,” Mr. Puffin states as he landed. “You need to get yourself together. These guys keep screwing around with my meals and giving me liquid crap.”

“Is that all you care about?” Emil sharply remarks, facing away from Norway that stands by idly. “Your stupid food?”

“That and your well-being,” Mr. Puffin continues. “Seriously, when is the last time you took a shower? You have been doing nothing but staring at a damn screen all week long!”

“. . . I’m fine.”

“Like hell, you’re fine,” Mr. Puffin scoffs. “Listen here. You need to get off of Twitter, take a shower, eat a full grown adult meal, sleep, and then you will be fine.”

“I can make my own decision -”

“Norway!” Mr. Puffin flaps his wings rapidly. “Stop being a passive bitch! You raised this child along with Denmark and me! Be firm and_ do something _! Icey is just a kid -”

“_ I’m not a kid! _” Emil yells, suddenly pushing the bird off his shoulder. He clutches the sides of his head and shut his eyes tight. “S-Stop telling me what to do! I have to have a choice in here!”

His whole entire body is shaking as Emil almost yanked out of his hair out of pure frustration. His face scrunches up as if he bite into a lemon with its rind. His breathing come in brief painful huffs. Tears builds in his eyes, but Emil tries to hold them back. 

However, he failed.

Norway watch as his brother breaks down. Tears and snot runs down Emil’s face. He tries to rub the mess away, but it always comes back with more. Iceland - a country that lived a few hundreds of years - was sobbing as if he was still a child that was stuck in a frozen wasteland of a home. 

Then Emil feels a weight on his shoulder, and it was heavier than his puffin.

With tears still running down his cheeks, he looks up and sees his brother sitting besides him with his own hand on Emil’s shoulder. Norway had moved position and sit on Emil’s bed. From an outsider’s perspective, Norway was emotionless than ever, but from Emil’s perspective, there's hints of worry as Norway’s eyes widen ever so slightly. 

“Iceland,” Norway starts. “I know that you have been having a hard time, but it’s going to be okay soon. That’s not an empty promise, _ I swear _.”

Emil hiccups his cries, still wiping his reformed tears.

“I know you feel like you don’t have a choice,” Norway state firmly, taking his hand off. “I understand that feeling. However . . .”

Norway reaches over his brother’s bedside table and grabs the tissue box that sits on top.

“We dealt with worse,” Norway pulls a tissue out before handling to the sobbing teen. “Remember the time where Denmark and Sweden used to go to war with each other and keep dragging us into it? That was pretty scarring.”

Using the tissue he was given, Emil clears his stained hands until the tissue is wet and useless.

“Also,” Norway pulls another tissue, gives it to Iceland, and takes the dirty one away. “Remember what happened during World War II? We were just out of a war before getting back into it. Plus, Sweden had this thing where we promised we were going to be neutral, but that got thrown out of the window quickly. I and Denmark was with the Allies. Finland is with the Axis Powers. I don’t completely understand Sweden’s situation. I think you were the only one that actually was neutral.”

“England used to sleep in my house during that time,” Iceland quietly comments, using the tissue given on his watering eyes. “He occupied my space and ate my food without asking.”

“That’s besides the point,” Norway states. “We were separated for so many years. It’s only after the Normandy Invasion that the Nordics got back together.”

“What are you getting at?” Emil asks, putting out a few more tissues. “This conversation seems pointless.”

“The point of this conversation is that we were_ forced _to do stuff before,” Norway huffs, getting more frustrated with his hard-headed little brother. “Wars, policies, low wages, abuse, we dealt with this stuff before.”

“But this time is different!” Emil exclaims, looking down into the empty tissue box before tossing it to the side. “Humans know_ what _ we are, and - and we can’t just _ deal with it! _”

“We _ have _ to,” Norway states, his anger slipping in his voice. However, he takes a deep breath and tries to calm down before speaking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so harsh. However, it is the truth that us, Nations, have to deal with our people knowing our existence eventually. Something like this is never going to be forgotten.”

Emil turns away from his brother. His throat was dried from crying so much. Norway is not going to understand him anyways. He only seen him as his little brother, a person who has less experience than me. Norway can’t relate to Iceland. There’s no way -

“I didn’t want the attention too,” Norway says, almost to a whisper. “I hated it.”

Emil froze. _ What did Norway said again? _ He thought.

“On the morning where the release happened, I wasn’t informed about the situation. America’s warning text didn’t went through for me,” Norway explains, his back bent. “When I got to my government building, it was surrounded by reporters, journalists, all sorts of people who are looking to make a quick buck on a sensational story.” Norway falls backwards onto the bed with his arms stretched out. 

“When those people spotted me,” Norway continues. “I can only describe it like throwing chum in a pool of sharks. They have cameras,_ everything _ , and they just . . .” Norway struggles to form words. “They just go for it. They ask me whether if I was a viking and my involvement with _ Captures _for the Axis Power. They even asked me about my testimony about Germany invading my lands during World War II.” 

“_ Norge . . . _” Emil whispers out, quickly switching to his brother’s language. 

“Then the internet happened, and it’s a mess,” Norway mutters out, frustrated. “I never imagined that I would be involved with something porngraphic, but Rule 34 say it had to happen. However, that’s not the worst part. Oh no, there’s something much worse.” Norway sits up and clears his throat. 

“It’s just the whole judgement that came with the discovery,” Norway states. “Everyone in the Nordics knows I hate attention. I hate interacting with people that I don’t know. However, my reveal had forced me to interact with strangers around the world more than I’m used to, and I cannot stop them from what they _ think _ of me. And - while I’m not vain - I know that I’m fairly attractive. People would literally take pictures of me while I’m not looking and post it on the internet, calling me a ‘god’ for my looks. And when I turned people down for pictures, they go on Twitter or whatever and called me horrible for doing so. And the humans -” 

For third straight minutes, Norway talks about his struggles after the leaks and Emil sits there and listens. Norway vents his heart out, spilling all of the inconveniences, the worries, and the woes that comes with unforeseen fame. On the surface level, Emil knew the problems Norway faced when he gained popularity as he wasn’t a fool, but he could never imagine this degree of horror. Norway recounts the numerous amount of times when creeps of all ages and sexes would come up to him and demand various things, which ranged from pictures to sexual favors. However, the tournament didn’t stop there. 

When Norway first got letters in his mail, not all of them were filled with hate and death threats. Some were quite sweet and were heartfelt letters from supportive people. However, there’s a line across when you sent _bodily fluids_ to your idol! He had gotten so much blood, hair, spit, semen, and literal_ shit _from the letters alone, not to mention that Norway gotten packages filled with such items too. 

For an entire month, Norway had experienced all of the insanity that many celebrities faced before, and it’s going to kill him.

“. . . And the worst part of it all is that I like the attention at the beginning,” Norway admits. “And now, it’s just too much for me. I just want to dig a hole and stay there until this fame passes.”

Then he finally stops. Norway’s throat was sore for speaking so long, even if it’s for thirty minutes. After all, he doesn’t talk much. Emil sits next to him, still processing of every word that spills out of Norway’s month. 

“So did you told the others about this?” Emil asks, uncomfortable with the growing awkwardness between them.

“No,” Norway shakes his head. “You were the first one.”

“You should really talk with a therapist, man,” Emil suggests bluently. “I’m no good with . . ._ this _.”

“I know,” Norway buries his face into the palms of his hands. “I shouldn’t have done this to you.”

“No, no, no,” Emil waves his hands in a panicked manner. “I get you. You didn’t ask for fame. I didn’t ask to receive attention. In this situation, it completely sucks for the _ both _ of us.”

Norway takes a long, deep breath into his hands before looking up and turning to his brother. “God,” Norway groans. “Originally, I just want to make sure that you eat something, but I’m now pouring my heart and soul out to you. I’m _ really _ sorry about that.”

“Norway, stop,” Emil demands. “It’s fine. It sounds like you needed to vent anyway.” 

“Just . . .” Norway stops himself before going on another rant. “Iceland, can you do me a favor before I leave?”

“Wait, a favor?”

“Yeah,” Norway nods. “Just . . . Just please take care of yourself. I know when I have gotten all of this attention, I didn’t take care of myself too. I didn’t shower. Didn’t eat. And I don’t want that for you.”

“_ Norge - _”

“I would do the same if you start eating again and stop looking at Twitter often,” Norway stands, looking down at Emil. “I’m not asking for you to do a one-eighty today. You don’t have to face this _ thing _ with a smile. It’s not a TV show or movie where it can be taken care of with one simple solution. Just . . . Just take baby steps, okay Iceland?”

Emil didn’t reply. But eventually, he did.

“O - Okay.”

“Good,” Norway sighs. “You can start by eating the food that I’d already bring. It’s probably cold, but I can -”

When Norway looks up to see where the plate had been placed, all he sees is a fat puffin that was laying on his back. 

“Ya fuckin’ done already?” Mr. Puffin burps and rocks back and fore on the emptied plate. “Also, this is my revenge for hitting me earlier! You gonna handle my diarrhea later, arseholes! I’ll shit all around your carpet!”

However, Emil just decided to throw him outside for the night and let him come back in the morning.

* * *

  
  


From: **Emil Sigurour**

To: **Alfred F. Jones**

Date: **April 1, 20XX**

Subject: **Additional Details - World Meetings**

America,

I know we’d never really interacted with each other, but this is important. This is not an attack. This is not a demand. This is a suggestion, so please listen. 

When your government released the documents, the Nordic countries - both the people and the personification - had been greatly affected by this. While there are many positives, there are just as many negatives come with it. Our privacy has been invaded in horribly perverse ways. We do not feel safe in our own country and had relocated to one spot where we could keep our eyes on each other. However, this is not a permanent solution. Therefore, I wanted to add - quite admittedly - an awkward topic to the next World Meeting, and it is a talk about Safety Protocols for nations who have gathered a positive international attention.

While I understand that many personifications had faced worse in dangerous situations, this kind of attention can be damaging and can get in the way of our duties. You see, my brother Norway had gained international attention overnight, but this attention had unnerved him to the point where he can’t properly function - both as a nation and as an individual. While his government is trying its best to provide support in conditions like this, other countries are more unfortunate. 

For example, my face has been on social media as of late. As a result, people have been more curious about Iceland as a country. While it sounds good on paper, it is only a matter of time until my growing fanbase gets to its extremes. People online had already made plans for a “raid” on one of my government buildings, the one where I would a press conference in. This raid had created concerns of the safety of the event, of course. 

And you already know that I am unable to handle that if such a situation were to occur. 

Fortunately, Denmark had provided support in terms of security and I have limited people who could attend, mostly on “unreliable” reporters. But this was still unprepared. I would like this to never happen again. Therefore, we need to discuss about proceedings on safety in cases like these.

  
  


**Emil Sigurour**

**The Republic of Iceland**

* * *

  
  


“Just thanks, Den,” Emil sighs, stressed. “You’re a life-saver.”

“Of course I am!” Denmark boasts. “If you want security, I’ll give you the best that I have! It’s gonna be a big day for you tomorrow, eh?”

Emil grimaces at the fact. He had a press conference at noon sharp tomorrow. But on the plus side, he will go to his capital today and stay there for a day after the conference just to round the loose ends. However, his body is so sore and stressed from all of the work he had to catch up with. Maybe he can consider getting a massage during his stay?

“Iceland!” Finland calls from the front door. “Mr. Puffin is coming with you! Is that correct?”

“Yeah!” Emil shouts back, grabbing his luggage he had put aside earlier. “That bird will destroy the house if I’m not here!”

“You punk!” Mr. Puffin flies to Emil’s shoulder, grumpy as ever. 

“It’s true,” Emil retorts. “Last time I left you alone, your species became even more endangered than it already is.”

“That happens a lot time ago!” 

Despite wanting to scold the bird even more, Emil rolls his eyes and walk to the outdoors. There he see Sweden putting the rest of Emil’s luggage in the back seat as Norway speaks into his door. Like Emil, his brother was busy too. Keeping his promise, Norway becomes more productive in the following days and got work done. This is ranged from replying to his emails to - of course - making calls. However, it’s the undermining relief within the Nordics to see the brothers aren’t depressed as before and being unsocial with them. That was something to them.

“- _ And you have to get it there, _ ” Norway mutters into his phone, speaking his own language. “ _ If it is delayed, it would be disastrous for the Great Assembly. Okay, I understand. Just get it there. Goodbye. _”

As he hangs up, Emil stands in front of him and stares blankly at the older man. 

“That’s one of my underlings, Iceland,” Norway explains automatically. “He’s supposed to give some information to my bosses.”

“Information?” Emil asks. 

“I just made a suggestion for a new privacy law,” Norway shoves his phone in his back pocket before opening the car door.

“Lemme guess,” Emil enters into the car, putting his luggage on his lap. “It’s a law for _ your _ privacy.”

“Yup,” Norway states as he climbs in. “I gotta make sure that I can have something before the discovery.”

“But are you sure having this law would give you some privacy?” Emil asks again, making light conversation. 

“Hopefully,” Norway replies. “But it will give me the privilege to send my stalkers to jail. However, it will be more complicated if said stalker is from another country, but I’ll try.”

“Alright!” A hand shoves Norway near his brother, painfully clashing with Emil’s side. “We are ready to go now!”

“Watch what you are pushing, dumbass!” Norway screeches as Emil struggles under his brother’s weight. 

“Oops . . .” Denmark says as he closes the door behind him.

* * *

  
  


Emil gathered all the notes he required for the press conference. He planned it all last night, writing his thoughts and potential answers on index cards. A lump is building up in his throat. Just a meter away is the stage where it will happen. The shuffling sound of footsteps fill the air and enter into the young teen’s ears. There is no turning back as all doubts and fears came back with a vengeful will. 

_ No matter what I said, _ Emil thought. _ They would not listen. _

However, he needs to remind himself. This will another moment in history. As a person who witnessed the rise and fall of kings and leaders, the birth of death of heroes and villains, the growth and trough of _ himself _ \- Emil have to face this. As a nation, he has to see this though even if he rather die than do this. 

“You ready?” a hand presses behind his back. Emil jumps before realizing it was his boss behind him.

“Oh my God!” Emil gasps, gathering himself up. “Please don’t do that.”

“Sorry,” his boss apologizes. “But we will be up there in a few minutes. We are going to speak English, okay?”

“We got international reporters, right?” 

“Not only that,” his boss explains. “This will be livestream across the world.”

Emil sighs deeply, his eyes darken in misery. “My english is bad. It’ll be a miracle if they understand me.”

“It’s not so bad.”

“My voice sounds so awkward and deep in English, ma’am,” Emil corrects. 

“Emil,” his boss sighs, slightly frustrated. “I’m sorry that you’re uncomfortable, but now it is not the time to be insecure. We are going to be up in a few, and we can’t up there shaking.”

Emil didn’t say anything before a worker comes up to his boss and whispers into her ear. “I’m going now,” his boss walks past him. “Please remember the cue to come out.”

As he looks through his notecards, Emil’s nerves just grow and grow. He feels like he’s going to vomit his breakfast before even considering to go. Even his hands tremble without his consent as it comes more difficult to read the cards. _ Deep breaths . . . Deep breaths, Iceland . . . _Emil reminds himself. He can hear his boss explaining the situation with nations to the crowd of patiently waiting reporters. Reporters that can either destroy him or help him. Hence, they could possibly destroy his home if they give a bad report -

_ Stop, _ Emil reminds himself. _ I’m not human. If there is a bad report about me and people get angry, it will not ruin this land itself. Despite being small, I’m still one of the most stable countries in the world. _

While that thought didn’t rid of his worries and doubts, Emil did help calm himself down slightly. However, his hands still feel weak to the point where his cards may slip from them. 

“- With the honour of working with him among my years as prime minister,” As those poisonous words slips from his boss’ mouth, Emil’s head snaps up. “I present our nation’s personification: Emil Sigurour.”

Shifting his cards once more, Emil takes a final deep breath and walk on stage. He tried to stoic facade, but the flashes from the cameras blinded his right side of his face, which made his right eye blink. _ That will become a meme later . . . _he thought bitterly. However, he stops himself again before his thoughts go far. 

After all, it is not the time for such things. 

As his leader steps down from the podium and Emil climbs on, he shuffles through his cards one last time and clears his throat. The reporters watching like ravenous birds searching for prey. “Good day, everyone,” he greets calmly in English. “As my prime minister said, I am Emil Sigurour, or the personification of the Republic of Iceland. However, you may call me ‘Iceland’ if you want.”

He could feel a hole burning into his stomach. Despite his relaxed and professional appearances, Emil feels like screaming into the void right now. He switches over to the next card and continue.

“I am several hundreds years of age, but I am physically between the ages of sixteen to seventeen,” Emil explains to no one in particular. “From the old like _ Ingólfur Arnarson _to the current like my leaders of today, I embodied everything good and bad this country is and was and is going to be.”

From the crowd, Emil could see cameras that is no doubtingly sending his message across the world as they think. Nevertheless, he turns to the next card.

“Now, I want to address a few things that has been circling throughout the public,” Emil feels his hands to begin to sweat. “First off, I am biologically related to the personification of Norway, but however, what one of his delegates said is false. Norway and I are brothers and raised me along with the personification of Denmark during my early years as a nation. My relationship with him is not abusive as we both have a mutual respect with each other.”

What he had said will make people crazy or something. There’s going to some reaction after what he said, but Emil prays it won’t be too bad.

“And now, with introductions out of the way,” Emil shallows a lump. “I can take questions.”

Then that is what the madness happens. Each reporter shoots their hands up, either yelling “Mr. Iceland” or “Mr. Sigurour, can I ask a question?” or some version of it. Taken aback, Emil points to a random man in a panic.

“Yes, you!” Emil states, trying to preserve his stoic exterior. 

“Um, okay!” the reporters shifts his glasses and stares down his notepad. “As a personification, how did you come to be?”

“Are you asking about my birth?” Emil asks for clarification. “Or how are nations born?”

“Somewhat both.”

Emil took a minute to ponder on such question. “I don’t know how exactly I was ‘born’, but when I came to be, I was a toddler walking on a frozen field.”

At that question, reporters look at the teen with wide eyes and absorbing the information as he speaks. 

“I was wearing a nightgown and was barefooted,” Emil continues. “For awhile, I wander around the land. I saw people, who in hindsight was settlers, but I know they aren’t like me. It was a feeling at the time, but I know they aren’t like me. However, I didn’t know at the time that I was a whole nation.”

It was oddly silent among the reporter besides the sounds of shuffling equipment. Are they silent for solidarity or silent as they were speechless?

“But I was found by Norway and Denmark in the end,” Emil clarifies, cutting through the silence. “Anyways, next question please.”

And so fore, the reporters absorb each question like a sponge. It was a surreal experience to Emil. As he recalls his history with surprising accuracy, people slowly becomes more hesitated to ask more.

Especially when he recalls the complicated relationship between the Nordics during World War II.

Eventually, no one have any more questions. “Next question,” Emil repeats but landing on deaf ears. He quietly sighs and looks back to the crowd. No raised hands. No shouting. This is a clear sign that this conference is over.

“Okay,” Emil states. “If there is no more questions, then this section is now over. Thank you for coming.”

Then he steps off stage and went to the back with his boss, and now, Emil have to wait for the reactions from the internet.

* * *

  
  


It has been awhile since Emil check Reddit. Of course, Reddit is the internet equivalent of self-harm. You know it’s painful, but you keep doing it anyways. However, Emil wanted to check it out after his conference. After all, it should be treading. 

So in his hotel room, he sits on the desk provided and with his laptop opened.

  
  


**Leon Wang** _Today at 9:34 PM_

Yooooooo ~

Reddit is practically worshipping you.

My god, you’re a meme, Iceland!

You are the Baby Yoda of the Nations.

|

**Emil S.** _ Today at 9:35 PM _

Tbh, I’m very surprised.

The attention is really positive overall.

|

**Leon Wang** _Today at 9:35 PM_

LOOK! This meme is so cute!

It’s so cute!

|

**Emil S.** _ Today at 9:36 PM _

That made me chuckle.

That is so nice.

|

**Leon Wang** _Today at 9:36 PM_

So can we call it blue skies right now?

|

**Emil S.** _ Today at 9:37 PM _

Um, not exactly.

I got a lot of stuff to do to ensure my safety.

Hell, it’s just the start of something bigger.

Me and the Nordics have to make a few laws due to our “popularity” issues

But it’s getting better.

Hopefully.

Anyways, how about you?

|

**Leon Wang** _Today at 9:37 PM_

r/hongkong goes on Reddit’s front page every other day. 

There’s a really cute dog like always.

Wait a second . . .

|

**Emil S.** _ Today at 9:38 PM _

What is it?

|

**Leon Wang** _Today at 9:38 PM_

Iceland.

Had you seen this kid before?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm sorry for not posting for many months. I was busy with finals with my University and I wanna do great. Also, I have a thing that I'm working on. It's an Avatar fanfiction and there is a preview of it on my devientart page. I'm finished with my first chapter and I have plans to work on it after this fic is over. 
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much for the overwhelming support! I love each kudos and comments you guys gave to me.
> 
> Webcomic: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/a-goddess-handbook/list?title_no=306030  
DA Account: https://www.deviantart.com/almintoms


	10. Micronations - 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Explicit Details of Sexual Harassment towards a Minor and Minor Details of Gore. Please proceed with caution.

**WY **

You’re an idiot. You know that, Sealand?

_ Today 11:23 AM  _

What made you think that going to

London Is a good idea?

_ Today 11:25 AM  _

Seriously, TURN BACK! This is no

game, Sealand! You’ll get killed if 

you go there!

_ Today 11:26 AM _

Wy, it’s going to be fine.

I’ll be careful

_ Today 11:27 AM _

NO IT WILL NOT BE OK

_ Today 11:27 AM _

YOU HAVE NO IDEA

WHAT’S GOING ON!

_ Today 11:27 AM _

Have you heard about Hutt River?

_ Today 11:28 AM _

He’s in the HOSPITAL because

People thought he was a monster

And beat him up until his SPINE 

broke into two!

_ Today 11:30 AM _

Also, just a reminder since not

All of us are made of steel and

Concrete!

_ Today 11:30 AM _

Micronations don’t heal as fast

as regular nations! And many times,

We need to go to the hospital when

We get hurt!

_ Today 11:31 AM _

Sealand, are you even listening

To me!?!?!?!

_ Today 11:31 AM _

Wy, I said don’t worry.

_ Today 11:32 AM _

I know it is a difficult time for

everyone and I know that I might

put myself in danger for this.

_ Today 11:34 AM _

However, this golden opportunity

For micronations like us to

get the recognition we deserved!

_ Today 11:35 AM _

Personified Nations are getting

Popular and more popular these days!

This could benefit us in a good way!

_ Today 11:38 AM _

And I know you are worried, but please!

_ Today 11:39 AM _

You don’t have to dive in like me,

But I just want to try by myself.

_ Today 11:40 AM _

After all, if we - or I, in this matter -

Want to become a real nation,

Then I have to take risks like this.

_ Today 11:41 AM _

However, I promise to be careful!

And please don’t worry about me too!

_ Today 11:41 AM _

I’m made of steel and concrete!

Most things can’t hurt me!

And I can hurt others by a lot!

_ Today 11:42 AM _

You’re still a huge idiot!

_ Today 11:43 AM _

And I’m begging you,

DON’T DO THIS! IT

WILL END IN TRAGEDY!

_ Today 11:43 AM _

Sorry, but I’m half-way to

London on a bus. It’s too

Late to turn back.

_ Today 11:44 AM _

You are an idiot!

_ Today 11:45 AM _

Go to the nearest airport, get on

a plane straight to Australia, and meet

Me at Melbourne!

_ Today 11:45 AM _

Australia said his government

would take any micronation for

a temporary amount of time. So

It’s best to get on it.

_ Today 11:47 AM _

SEALAND, ARE YOU LISTENING

TO ME?!?!?!

_ Today 12:00 PM _

* * *

  
  
  


It wasn’t as busy as she expected. After all, a big hospital in the middle of the Australian capital and at midday, one could have expected something big to happen. However, the lack of business only made Wy’s anxiety peak as she looks down at her phone. She could feel a heavy weight on her chest as the minutes go by. It has been a while since her friend texted her, and it is making her so both mad and scared for the little twat.  _ I swear!  _ Wy thought, gripping tighter onto her phone. _ If he gets beaten up -  _ She stops herself. Australia said she is going to make herself sick if she keeps thinking about the worst.

However, it seems like the worst had happened.

Currently, in Melbourne, there is a protest against Australia and the micronations he “took care of.” Not like the man is responsible for her own well-being as she had declared her independence a while back ago. However, her independence status doesn’t matter because the media and people in general will say whatever they want. 

You think that micronations would be in the clear from all of this? That somehow people won’t pay attention to them? But that is not the reality of the situation. Especially if you are an Australian micronation right now.

Now, Australia has a history with dealing with an abnormal amount of micronations. From herself to Hutt River to Rainbow Creek to the Gay Kingdom (yes, that was a real thing), Australia had a lot of semi-immortal kids running around the place and have to decided what to do with them. Hence, a section of his leaked files was dedicated to micronations, even having a few pictures of them in it.

That picture was taken during Wy’s birthday party. It was a fun time with cake, wonderful gifts from all of her friends, and even a new painting set from her lovely king. However, it’s important to note that Australia was taking pictures like a madman. He took pictures of the cake, the gifts, and Wy’s royal family. Unfortunately, he had also made Wy posed for this exact picture. Of course, she didn’t think about at the time or ever consider that it will be on official documents, but alas, it came to bite her back. Especially when Wy saw that picture on her timeline.

After all, Wy has an Instagram account under the name of @wendysweetie. She usually post pictures of her paintings, food, and herself sometimes, which became an issue real fast. Within the first few days, Wy didn’t think to delete her pictures on there. She was so busy with much bigger things that she didn't even think about her own tiny Instagram account being discovered! However, it got discovered in the end and her pictures quickly became the subject of many news sources.

“You see this!” one news reporter exclaims, pointing towards the large screen behind him. “She may look like a little girl, but she is close to her twenties already!”

“There is no parents to be found in connection with this child,” another reports. “She is one of many personified micronations to be discovered. She is the Principality of Wy, a small nation founded here in Australia.”

“I question how is this possible,” a scientist on a talk show explains. “Besides nations in general, how are these ‘children’ being chosen to become the personifications of micronations? Are they pre-existing children? Or are they created for this position? Does that mean micronations are a stage of a nation’s development or is that its own entity?”

There are so many questions floating around the internet about the logistics of micronations. However, many had seen Wy as “ little girl in her twenties.” Like what the bottomfeeders of internet do, they went to her Instagram and try something gross. 

“Hey Honey ~ How are you feeling?”

“You’re so cute. Are you a virgin?”

“If you are two decades old, then do you have some experience as an adult?”

“I’ll rape that cute little ass of yours.”

That’s a few of what she had received before Wy uninstalled her Instagram app and left her account in limbo. The few messages she did read had made her throw up a little, but that is more on the surface. Some were long and winding. Some were threats of rape and physical assault. Some send disgusting pictures of their privates or videos of the user masturbating. And again, those aren’t even the worst ones.

She wanted to tell someone - Australia or her royal family - about these disgusting messages, but Wy felt that it would make the situation worse than it already is. Before the Reveal, her small group of people have only received minimum attention from media sources, but now, it’s too much with people - reporters or “curious” people - practically flocking around her land and asking for an interview or other requests. Wy thinks that was the first time that she was forced to close her art exhibitions for such a reason.

It had scared everyone there, and as a micronation, she is unable to have sufficient protection. 

Therefore, she’s staying with her big brother in Melbourne. Australia said his government will protect her people until the issue has been settled, but Wy still can’t help but be worried as everyone was still back at home with those crowds. What if one of those creeps that sent her the messages break into her house? What will her royal family do then? As a nation, it was supposed to be her job to protect them, and if she failed to do so, then what is she? A failure to be a responsible nation?

She would be a piece of rotting garbage if that were to happen.

_ Swift! Swift! _

Wy stands from the seat the second the door open wide, revealing a doctor and her brother. “- he seems to be healing faster than usual,” the doctor explains to Australia. “But that is to be expected due to his . . .” The doctor trails off and stares peculiarly at the well-built man.

“I get it,” Australia sighs, tired. “That fella ain’t human.”

“Right,” the doctor clears his throat before noticing the young girl that walks beside the nation. “Excuse me?”

“Jett,” Wy calls, using Australia’s human name. “Is Henry okay?”

“Um,” Australia tries to think words to best sum up Hutt River’s condition. “Well, he’s awake.”

As Wy gasps, shocked at how fast the micronation healed, the doctor cuts her off.

“I wanted to add that while he’s awake, he may have a hard time responding,” the doctor explains gently as he can, catching the girl’s attention. “Not only he received damage towards his spinal cord, he received brain damage as well.”

“Brain damage?!” Wy repeats before turning to her brother, anger filling her up. “Why didn’t you tell me last night?!”

“I didn’t want to worry you more!” Australia quickly says, raising his hands up in defense. “You already seems stressed so I didn’t tell you! I’m sorry.”

Before Wy could tear into him, the doctor speaks up again.

“ _ However, _ ” he starts, looking through the papers his clipboard has. “There is some  _ amazing  _ news for Henry. The MRI scan has shown - well - essentially his brain  _ reforming _ . Like growing the matter he lost the other night.”

Wy glares at the taller nation but calming down slightly upon hearing the report.

“I- I had never seen anything like this,” the doctor continues. “And to be frank, Henry should have died on the table. But -” The doctor put down his board and take a deep sigh. “- But I saw his flesh  _ grow back  _ while we performed surgery _ .  _ We were forced to use an ungodly amount of forceps to keep the flesh apart, but even that wasn’t enough to stop the process. S-So we just have to _ cut it _ and just keep going.”

“I’m sorry to traumatized you like that,” Australia says carefully. “Um, usually when nations get injured, we don’t go to a hospital. We can heal on our own. But for micronations, I did not know what to do for him. I was scared that he would -”

The doctor raises a hand. “No, no,” he says. “I understand Henry is your ‘little brother’, yes?”

Australia nods in agreement. 

“Your reaction is perfectly reasonable then. After all, despite his healing process, the rest of him was ‘human’ to say and can be easily dealt with.”

“Right . . .” Australia put a hand against the back of his neck and sighs. “Wendy, do you want to see Henry?”

“Huh?” Wy looks up to him in confusion.

“Oh yes, the visitation hours are still on,” the doctor explains, finally bringing a light topics to such a dark conversation. “I can bet he will be excited for his mates.”

“We aren’t his mates,” Wy inserts. “We’re his fam-”

“Just let us see him,” Australia cuts her off before she can bad mouth anyone. 

The doctor nods before opening the door to his room. Now, Australia already saw Hutt River and in his  _ current _ condition, but Wy on the other hand . . .

“Oh my God,” she gasps, her stomach twisting into knots. Wy put a hand against her mouth and tries not to gag at the twisted sight that used to be her brother. 

The flamboyant, free-spirited Hutt River was reduced to a crippled state as he lays in his bed with layers upon layers of bandages and snitches on him. His head was completely shaved off - his neck covered in a brace - and wrapped with white gauze. His skin was a greyish-red from the bruising and his once bright olive-coloured eyes was a dull hue and holds no hints of an expressive tone. 

Was this the same Hutt River Wy knows about? It was like looking at an entirely different person. 

Slowly, Hutt River looks over to the people who just entered with the same dull eyes and his mouth apart. Almost by instinct, Wy reaches up and grabs Australia’s open palm for comfort and approach his bedside. Tubes and bags are connected to the teen while Hutt River continues stares at them in silence. He looks like a dead fish, looking up at them with no opinion or expression. Just a soft reminder to end his miserable existence quickly. And in a drag, Hutt River speaks in a voice that was unlike anything the personifications heard..

“Cape . . .” he says. His voice like a rusty nail and almost to a whisper.

The doctor almost jumps at the quiet response. As he said before, Hutt River received enough brain damage that it was supposed to kill him. However, this young man went from a gory mess on the floor of the ER to saying a word within a single day. “This shouldn’t be possible,” the doctor says to no one in particular. 

However, his words goes ignored.

“Hutt?” Australia calls him by his nation name, gently pulling Wy over to his bedside. “Hutt River? Do you understand me?”

“I . . .” Hutt River drags. “Cape . . .”

“Cape?” Australia asks, confused and worried. “What are you saying, mate?” Was it the brain damage talking? 

Hutt River’s breath was slow drawing, but the teen inhale deeper before talking again.

“My cape . . .” Hutt River repeats, his eyes widen and begging. “I . . . Need it . . .”

“Hold on,” Wy pulls away from her brother, an eyebrow raised. “Don’t tell me -”

Hutt River takes what felt the biggest breath he ever experienced and repeats.

“I want . . . My cape . . .” Hutt River says again, his voice much louder and clear. “I . . . Don’t look cool . . . Without it . . .”

No one can’t believe it. The doctor is on the verge of calling staff to see that the _ brain damaged _ teen can speak and comprehend his words to sentences _ all in one day _ . Wy feels dead inside. Australia is speechless.

Hutt River wants that purple cape of his. While he’s in the hospital. With  _ brain damage _ and a  _ broken spine _ .

Wy’s patience is running thin as she hears it. Among the worry, the fact she didn’t sleep last night because of him, the stress from the sudden interest from the media, the harassment from pigs online, and the questioning of her self-worth as a nation, Wy never  _ ever _ wanted to knee an injured person so badly until now. 

However, she heard a familiar laugh.

Wy looks up and shock to discover that the source came from Australia himself. He bursts into a fit of delighted chuckles and inhaling snorts until his face becomes red. Now, Australia has always been the person that smiles more than an average man. He has always been so cheerful even in the face of tragedy. But after the discovery, he seems too tired to the point where he doesn’t want to smile, laugh, or even chat to anyone. Even to many dangerous animals that lived on his land. Even with the Joeys, wallabies, and koalas, he didn’t interact them besides feeding them and checking for injuries. But laughing now, at such a grim time, it almost seems like Australia was back to his original cheerful self.

“Don’t worry, mate,” Australia states with a grin plastered on his face. “The thing is a little tore, but it’s at home. You can wear it when all of us go home.”

Hutt River, in his terrible state, smiles under all of his bandages before closing his eyes to rest. “”Thanks . . .”

Wy huffs and crosses her arms.  _ I guess I let it slide for now, _ she thought, looking back at the still smiling Australia.  _ After all, it’s probably be a long time until he laughs like this again. _

* * *

  
  


It’s almost midnight, and the driver just reached the end of the line. It was common for people to sleep when they reached the end of the line. In a way, it was his job to wake up sleeping passengers and kick them out. However, he didn’t think a little kid would be among the ones he would be kicking out. 

The boy is small and wore a blue sailor suit with a darker blue cardigan and a little hat. He’s blond and pale-skinned as if he was a doll. His eyes were closed shut as he continues to sleep, snoring ever so softly. A part of the driver didn’t want to wake the child as the young one’s appearance looks so unreal in a way that he can’t explain. Alas, he has to or else he would lose his job of twenty-seven years. He put a hand on the young lad’s shoulder and shake it. “Hey,” he says harshly. “Wake up. This is the end of the line.”

The boy sharply open his eyes, surprise was presented in the bluest eyes the driver ever seen. “O-Oh!” the boy pushes himself from the seat. “Sorry! I guess I have overslept, did I?”

The child talks as if he was an actor on British television that the driver seen when he was a child himself. In fact, the weirdly chipper attitude had made the boy more of a caricature than an actual child. A personality that seems fake but is completely organic.

“Excuse me, sir,” The boy calls the driver out of his nostalgic daydream. “Can you please help me? My bag is over there, but I can’t get it.”

The lad points to the overhead compartment where a single backpack lays sideways. The driver grabs the object and gives it to the boy who thanks him with a smile. 

“I’m off now!” The boy swings the bag over his shoulders. “Thank you so much for the ride!”

Just as the boy walk to the front with much enthusiasm, reality finally struck the driver like a meteorite.  _ Why the hell is a little boy riding the bus in the middle of the night? _

“Wait a minute there!” The driver yells with such a sharp tone and stops the boy in his tracks. “Where are your parents? And where are you going?”

The boy spins around, already sweating where he stands. “W-Well,” he stutters, fiddling with his sleeves of his cardigan. “I-I just have some business to attend to.”

“Business?” the driver approaches the kid, forcing him to back away. “What kind of business does a young lad like you have?”

“Um . . .” The boy recollects himself and tries to stand up tall with faux confidence, his cheat puffs up. “I’m on international business with the United Kingdom! So yeah! It’s quite confidential and I can’t tell you why I’m here or where I am going! Because it’s important to keep it like that!”

“That sounds like a lie,” the driver told him as he reaches to his pockets. “Stay right there, lad. I’m calling the police.”

The boy becomes visually panicked. “A-Ah!” the boy tugs on his bag’s straps. “No! Wait, please! I’m older than I look! Like seriously, I’m probably older than you!” The driver didn’t listen as he typed 999 into his phone

However, the driver forgot one important detail.

The boy dashes to the wide opened door and run across the street from the bus. The driver almost dropped his phone on the ground as he rushes out to see the young boy disappearing to the horizon.

The young boy ran as fast as he can until his lungs were burning like hot coals. His leg was about to give out until he finally stop when he turns back to see that bus disappeared a long time ago. He leans against the nearest wall and tries to catch his breath. The air was humid and warm enough that it sticks to his skin.  _ I didn’t think I have to run this early _ , the child reaches into his pocket and pulled out his phone.  _ I wonder what Wy has been doing. I hope she’s not that mad. _

As he pulls up her last message, his heart drops a little. 

SEALAND, ARE YOU LISTENING

TO ME?!?!?!

_ Yesterday 12:00 PM _

Those words were filled with such anger and anxiety that it made the boy feel bad for leaving her on read. However, he can’t really convince her of his plans and that’s fine with him. After all, to make Sealand into a powerful empire that surpasses Britain, their personification have to take risks that may seem dangerous or stupid. But at the end, it will be definitely worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the warning at the beginning told you that this chapter is darker than usual. But that's saying quite a bit since I wrote about other dark things. Anyways, if you have a problem with the warning at the beginning, let me know. I don't want to cause any panic attacks on purpose.
> 
> However, thank you so much for reading and supporting me. I hope everyone is doing well on the other side of the screen!
> 
> Webcomic: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/a-goddess-handbook/list?title_no=306030  
DA Account: https://www.deviantart.com/almintoms


	11. Micronations - 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Intense scenes

“Her name was Michelle Williams, and she was only seventeen when she died,” the man explains and holds a framed picture of his beloved daughter to a crowd. “She was a good girl. She was so passionate with a lot of things. She had a dream of becoming a historian.” 

The father chokes on his words for a moment before continuing with welling tears in his ancient eyes. “When she heard the news about the -_ this country’s personification _ \- she went to the protest on this _ establishment _ .” He could no longer hold back as his liquid sorrow pours from eyes and down his cheeks in thin streams. His hands - calloused from all of the labour he committed in his years - tighten around the frame until the edges begins to cracks. “When they opened fire, Michelle was part of the ones who _ died _.”

The crowd is silent in anger. It’s past midnight, but the sky is bright with shades of purple and orange. The whole scene at _ Buckingham Palace _ is beyond active. Currently, hundreds upon hundreds of protesters, ranging from the old and frail to the new and athletic to the locals to the travelers, all stands together in solitude after the people who were lost during the four days long _ riot _. Soldiers - dressed in green instead of red - were on the other side of the fence. Or at least what is left of it.

There is a large gap in the tall metal fence that surrounds the building and is being guarded by the soldiers armed to the brim. The tension between the soldiers and protesters are running high as under no circumstances, the soldiers don’t get to leave. Even if they are hungry, even if they are hurt, they cannot_ leave _ . They had signed up to die for their country, and by God’s will, they will if they have to. However, the protesters stares at the standing army men with distaste and hate. To them, they are a sign of their cruel personification’s control over his people. Even some braver protesters would come up to the country’s puppets and tell them that they were being controlled by a _ demon _, an apathetic creature who only care of itself. Of course, the idiots will never listen or try to break out of its control. 

The intensity is in the air is suffocating, but however, the cameras has been rolling from the start, showing everyone across the globe this mess. The causal bystanders on the other side of the screen can only look and wonder how England, a country proud of their people and culture, would become something like this. 

At that moment of time, Sealand begins to doubt his resolve as he stands far behind the crowd, standing near a shop.

The father exclaims stories about his little girl as if this event was her funeral with tears still dripping down his face. The protesters look so much bigger than little Sealand, and the fact some were holding 2x4s and other weapons didn’t sooth him. _ Would my punches be enough? _ Sealand looks down on his hands. If he has to fight, he will fight. After all, Sealand survived a civil war and have a fully functional army like a real nation. The protester shouldn’t scare him, right?

“The United Kingdom isn’t one entity!” A woman exclaims once the father was off the platform of boxes and whatnot. “As in real life, it is comprised of other nations!” On cue, a group of men holds up a wide strip of cardboard with pictures of Sealand’s older brothers: Britain, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland. All of the countries that comprised the United Kingdom were there in their full glory. 

“These _ things _ ,” the women continues, pointing to the pictures with such disgust, “are not humans but somehow, called themselves _ brothers _.” With the harshest huff of a breath, the woman glares out to the crowd. Not because she was mad at them, it’s just her expression for her “country.” 

“They _ killed _ , they _ tortured _ , they _ raped. _ They have been doing cruel act for _ centuries _ and built an empire on the o _ ppression of others _ .” With more grand hand gestures, the woman’s voice raises every so higher. “As a people, we had acknowledged the sins that our nations committed. But did our personifications realized this? Did our personifications get into a simple little argument and cause the English Civil War because of it? Did Northern Ireland decided to go with the oppressive Britain instead of going with his twin, Ireland? Did Scotland - the oldest of the brothers - ever decided to try and stop his younger brothers before tragedies happened? How can we justified all of their willingness to support an over-of-date monarchy? How? How could they have this much power and be allowed to live? As the people of this nation, we had executed kings and queens before. It is time to do the same with these _ monsters _!”

Just as she said “monsters”, the crowd brusts in roars of excitement as they agree with every sentiment she said. Sealand - who witnessed it all - feels every heavy metal nail on that holds his sea port together drops into his stomach. _ They don’t know about it works _ , Sealand thought, referring to the women’s speech. _ Are they just going along with everything? That isn’t how we work! _ Even if Sealand is the youngest among his brothers, he knows what crimes the elder brothers committed. However, that isn’t because they are evil. They had reasons within their decisions at that time they made it. Even if those reasons are horrible, it is not like they made it without thought and consideration like _ animals. _

But alas, those protesters will not hear facts as their minds were dyed in bias. Or was Sealand’s mind was the one dyed in bias? Maybe he was seeing things in a different light than those humans?

Nevertheless, Sealand needed to get inside of Buckingham Palace to put his plan into action, but the military is surrounding the whole place. Sure, Sealand can go one of the officials and tell them that he’s related to Britain, but there is no doubt that they would want to confirm it. Especially when an ansty protest is around. 

However, do Sealand want to wait for the confirmation while there’s a chance of the protesters getting a hint of it? Sure, if they tried to beat him up, Sealand will fight, but despite his metal and concrete body, steel can be bent out of shape if you tried hard enough. Does Sealand really want to attempt his fate and go for it? Absolutely not! He will take risks, but Sealand isn’t that reckless when considering he is still technically a micronation!

Sealand steps away the crowds and marches far away from them. While Sealand wouldn’t interact with the army, it doesn’t mean that he can’t enter the Palace in another way. As the young boy found a sewer lid out of sight from the public, Sealand’s stomach turns as he thought about said “other way.” A few years ago, the United Kingdom Brothers had some routine training to use the underground tunnel system underneath the palace, and Sealand so happened to drop in and demanded for the same treatment. At first, Britain wanted the child out of it, but the Queen said it was fine for Sealand to get the training since the child hangs around the palace sometimes. “Be nice, Arthur,'' she said. “He’s your younger brother and you have to treat him nicer.”

Being scolded by his queen isn’t fun, and taking Sealand to get trained isn’t fun too. By god’s will, Sealand recalls England getting the booze out immediately after training. 

However, that training came in handy as Sealand pulls the lid to the side as if it were a feather. As Sealand have full knowledge about how to get out of Buckingham Palace, he can easily go inside the palace. Granted it may triggered a reaction from the guards inside, but maybe when Sealand explain his status, they wouldn’t throw him out.

That’s if they know about Sealand and can outlook his young appearance.

But Sealand can’t think about the negative! He has to think about the positives! Like if his plan goes well, Sealand could actually grow up and become an adult. He could even imagine that his home become more than a worn down military base and more like a functioning nation built on the hard work of others. 

That is a dream that Sealand is willing to work hard on. Even if it requires going to an awful smelling sewer.

* * *

  
  


This was his fifth teapot he drank today. He tried so hard to not hit the bottles in a time like this, but the Jamesons over by the bar looks so appealing right about now. Despite the stress weighing on his shoulders, the scene would look quite normal and calming. A blonde haired gentlemen enjoying tea alone. However, the rifle near his side and the orange night sky that peeks out from his window visually sticks out. If you include sounds, you can hear the cheers and animalistic roars from the protesters and the movement of soldiers planning and shifting their weapons in case of another breach. 

How many days has he been in this place? He wouldn’t mind being here for countless days as it was like his second home, but the constant sounds outside and that damn riot that happened had made him feel unsafe in this home of his. As the days go by, He can no longer deny that this isn’t just a problem buried deep within his people and can ignore. If he does anything wrong during this period of anger and resentment, it could end in disaster. 

For the first time in a while, England is afraid to take his next move. However, he can’t think unless he makes his tea again. 

“Do you think you had enough caffeine today?” a older-looking man asks across the room. It was his crown heir. The prince that will become king after his mother, the queen, dies. Usually, England would treat any member of the royal family with the utmost respect, but . . .

“Pardon me,” England grips his teacup tighter. “But do you think you shouldn’t have been sleeping around while you were still married?”

The country isn’t afraid to bring up the past in a time like this. However, England frowns deeply before turning to the future monarch. “I do apologize for the outburst, sir,” he says sincerely. “It - It’s because I’m having a bad day.”

“It seems we all are having a bad day,” the prince says, rubbing a hand all over his face. “Was it like this during the English Civil War?”

_ My God _ , England thought. _ That’s when they executed a king. Is he thinking about his death lately? _

“Do you want me to lie to say the truth, lad?” England asks, but it was a rhetorical question. “Um, all that I can say is that more people died in the Civil War than this incident.”

The prince sighs before shifting in his seat and continues to watch television in front of him. “Hopefully, it stays like that,” he mutters.

He could laugh at the impossibly cruel irony. England once claimed to be the country that is most connected to his people, but now, he can’t even know the feelings of the ones he interacts with on a daily basis. It’s truly pathetic now. He was once a great empire, but now, he’s a_ meme _ . Literally. The Americans on the internet are taking his pictures in their patriotic hubris and ripping his history apart. However, England can’t complain as it was America who wrote his files and added “personal notes” to it. That brat had really screwed him over _ big time. _

Alas, all he can do is to wait until this incident becomes forgotten. 

But the artificial peace was broken as the door slams open with a force that could break a tree in half. Soldiers start pouring out from the door and take the prince out. “What is happening?” England stands up immediately. “Was there another breach?”

His words go ignored as the prince is rushed out of the room. “What is going on?” England asks again, his fists clenched tightly. “Where’s your superior officer, people?!”

“I’m the superior officer, sir,” a voice speaks besides the nation. England almost jumps before turning to a man, who was taller than him and wears a green uniform that instantly speaks authority. “And I need you this way. Someone had just accessed the underground tunnels”

“_ Shit! _” The gentleman curses. God help the Queen and its nation. If this someone was a protester, how long will the rest of those fiends follow then? The nation yanks the rifle from the side and pulls back the safety. 

“Where’s the breach?” England demands. 

“Follow us,” the officer instructs. As the England rushes with the soldiers, he can’t help to have a rotting feeling at the bottom of his stomach. It’s a feeling that there is something more horrifying than armed protesters will appear in the tunnels. Like a bug that infested his home’s walls and lay her eggs within them.

Something that he doesn’t want to see during this tense period.

The soldiers start pulling up the floorboards and reveals a solid metal door that is covered in layers of a dark orange rust and black residue. There was no time where they tugs on the handle, opening the door. A long tunnel filled with darkness stands before them as a moment of stillness passes them. However, the silence was broken with a shout.

“Torch!”

Just like that, a light is shining throughout the tunnel, revealing a staircase that goes downwards.

“It hasn’t been in use for a while,” England states. “There’s no doubt that there’s something broken down there. So everyone, I want you to be careful there!”

“Right!” the army men shouts. At that exact moment, it felt like Britain was back on the battlefield a few hundred years ago, reliving the glory days of where he is the most powerful empire on the planet, but that moment was short-lived as the men pulls him into the darkness. The air was frigid and the ground soon turns into solid rock. There were very few lights on the account of the torches the soldier had.

The tunnels weren't designed for the modern era in mind. When Buckingham Palace acquired by King George III, this system was created. The design was simple enough for its intent purpose of escape. Get out via the tunnels with a literal torch. However, as time moves on and technology advanced, the tunnels did not. By the time they realized this fact, they are unable to update it as the people from the city near by will see what they are trying to do. If those people see the tunnels, the tunnels will no longer be a secret. 

That’s until this day. 

While they are unable to update the tunnels themselves, they put in motion sensors in the sewers just in case situations like this. Now that they rushing to counter the intruder, England is glad to consider something so minor. 

As the soldiers approach the entrance - a tall metal door - that separates the tunnels from the sewers, they and England aim the weapons at the door, ready to fire. “If one of those bastards come here,” the superior officer yells. “Give ‘em Hell.”

Seconds seem like minutes and minutes seem like hours. The soldiers’ finger is on the guns’ trigger as restless they are. Whoever the protester was or whatever slimy worm is, they will shoot. The door creaks open, cutting through the thick silence. It is so sudden that it shocks some of the soldiers who hold up their guns to their faces. England was one of them as he shouts at the intruder.

“Stop right there!” the officer demands. “If you move anymore, we will shoot!”

“O-Oh!” a high-pitched voice echoes throughout the tunnel and fills the ears of the steel-hearted men. “There are soldiers in here?”

The voice is so high that it easily identified as a child’s. The men looks around at each other, making sure that they haven’t gone mad yet. However, their weapons are still up and ready to fire down the mentioned child. 

On the other hand, England immediately knows who this child is by its voice, but he prays to God that he is wrong.

“Come out with your raised above your head!” the officer instructs. “Any deviations will cause us to shoot. ”

The door open wider, which put the men back on their feet. However, they will slowly question their sanity when a tiny blonde child in the sailor suit walks out with his hands above his hands. 

“Um, can I speak?” the child speaks in the most stereotypical British accent that someone could muster up that the soldier could swear that it was fake.

“Sealand?!” England puts his weapon down. “You were the intruder?!”

On cue, the soldiers put their own weapons down as their nation do so. England stares down the boy, bewildered at his sudden appearance. The men look over to the English gentleman, not knowing what to do next. Was this kid a nation too? They wonder. Even the superior officer was at a lost as he was the only one that still points his gun at the boy. 

“I’m made out of steel and concrete, but I’m not sure if I’m bulletproof,” the boy explains. “So can you please put the guns down? I’m just a little boy.”

Right now, England is making plans to see that bottle of Jamesons tonight.

* * *

  
  


The royal chef always makes the ice cream sundaes. A large bowl with piles of vanilla goodness (Sealand’s favorite favour) with whipped cream, cherry sauce, and nuts galore. Without talking to his brother next to him, half of the bowl was empty with its content smeared on the cheery child’s face. “Sealand,” England calls to the micronation, a headache coming on.

The boy didn’t hear him as he continues eating. 

England takes a deep sigh, the deepest of today’s collection, and calls out to him again. “Sealand!” he raised his voice. “What are you doing here?”

Sealand pauses his spoon midair, a thing of cream dripping off it. “Um, international business?” Sealand replies. “I was thinking about taking this opportunity to be recognized as a nation.”

England slams his forehead down the table, cracking it. Sealand backs up in his seat as he shoves the spoon into his mouth and enjoys the few moments of pleasure before being pulled back into reality. 

“You’re up to your antics again, huh?” England says bitterly, lifting his head to glare Sealand down. “You think any of this is a _ game _?”

“W-Well -”

England rams his hand down in front of the frightened child. “Have you seen what’s going outside? People had _ died, _Sealand,” he explains. “Actual people.”

“I know that -” Sealand tries to interrupt, but England grabs the child by the arm and pulls him to the nearest window. “Hey!”

“Look!” England points downward at the protesters. “Look! See that ring of flowers over there?”

Sealand look down as well and see the protesters, circling around a certain spot. They put flowers of all kinds around the edges as they hold candles. Sealand can’t quite see it due to the distance. The most he could make out inside the flower circle is a dark colour on the grayish pavement, but that is questionable at best. “Someone was shot at that exact spot and_ died _ later in the hospital,” England explains. “And now, people are going off on me, saying that I _ killed _ him.”

“Yeah, but did you do it then?” Sealand asks absentmindedly. 

“_ No! _ ” England exclaims. The volume of his voice rising and scaring the child at the same time. “That guy got shot while he was being _ stupid _ !” Sealand tugs hard and breaks his brother’s grip before stepping away from the British man’s meltdown. “He had _ climbed _ over the goddamn fence and got shot down. That isn’t my fault! He should have known better!”

“Calm down, England!” Sealand runs back to the table and hides behind a chair. “You’re scary!”

“_ Calm down? _ ” England mocks. “You have no idea what’s going on, idiot! My whole life is going -” He stops. _ What am I doing? _ England falls to his knees with his head down. _ Have I really go this far now? Once a great empire, and now this? I’m yelling like I had gone mad. _

As Sealand grips the sides of the chair, he hears a sob before hearing another sob, louder than the first. The quiet sobs broke into loud, animal-like cries. A screeching tone that grates inside your brain and burns itself into your memory. It was one of the worst things Sealand ever witnessed, and there’s nothing he can do but to wait until it was silent once more.

* * *

  
  


Days pass by and the current scene isn’t what Sealand expected it. Outside, the protest still big as the first day he has been here. The army are still there too, but unlike the first day Sealand came here, they were loose and uninterested in the protest, playing cards and smoking on the job. From what he heard, today would marked the thirty-fourth day that this has been going. Everyone around him seems too tired about it. The princes, princesses, the Queen, even England could barely keep his head up as he downs tea as if he still dominates the spice trade. 

Sealand wasn’t stupid when going in. He knew about the protests and everything that happened here. He just underestimated how serious the situation really is. 

“England,” Sealand calls out. “We need to talk.”

England is having his second teapot for his morning. He had ignored the child for the days Sealand had been here. Not after that night where the young lad suffered through his cries. However, he didn’t expect Sealand to come up to him and say “we need to talk” so casually.

“What is it, Sealand?” England asks, putting his teacup back on its saucer. 

“It’s about - well, the protest,” Sealand explains. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Simple,” the older man states. ”I’ll wait until this blows over. Eventually, they will get tired over this.”

“If that happened, what will you do then?”

England pauses. A frown was presented on his lips. “We’ll figured that out when the time happens.” 

Sealand sighs, disappointed, as England lifts up his teacup back. “I’m leaving.”

“What?” England turns with holding his cup midair.

“Originally, my plan was to ask for an appearance on a press conference or something,” Sealand explains with his head down. “But seeing that nothing being done, I have no choice but to get out. If I want to be a nation, I have to be productive. Not just wait here until the opportunity ‘blows over.’”

England stares down the child despite the little one’s head being down. He can sense the strong feeling of determination ever presented within the boy despite his usually quite attitude.  
  
“That’s fine,” the nations turns back to his tea. “Are you going out though the tunnels?”

“Yes,” Sealand says bluntly. 

England closed his tired eyes, relaxing his body in the darkness. “I tell the army men about it. We don’t want another incident to happen.”

“Thank you,” Sealand says before turning around and walking to the nearest door.

“Oh Sealand?” England calls. Sealand stops as he’s about to open the door and turn around. 

“Hm?”

“I know about how you work,” England remind. “At a time like this, please don’t do anything stupid. I will not become for you if something happens.”

Sealand nods as he goes out the room.

* * *

The hotel looks look clean when you first look at it. But the truth is that the wallpaper was peeling off of their wooden walls. The white carpet below the child’s feet was actually a greenish-brown hue with different colour stains here and there. The smell of smoke was thick enough that you could see a cloud forming around the ceiling and blurring the light that shines though. Sealand have no desire to be here, but he doesn’t have that much money to spend. 

“What do you want?!” a woman shouts over him, making his jump. The woman was fat and wearing a stained grey tank top with a lit cigarette between her lips.

“I-I want a room for one night, ma’am,” he replies back.

The woman takes a deep breath out of her cigarette with the palm of her grease-covered hand opened. “Pay.”

The room would cost five pounds in total. A really cheaper when considering he will get two beds and bathroom too. Sealand hands her the cash, takes the keys, and get out as quickly as he can. The smell of those devil sticks still lingers around. The air outside was cold and the skies were grey and cloudy as if it was about to rain. Sealand marches over to his room, each step getting heavier than the last. By the time he made it, his body felt slow and sluggish. The room itself appears to be clean enough when one ignores the green mold that grows on the bathtub. Sealand falls onto the nearest bed and inhales the dust that stands on it. Moments goes by before Sealand flips himself over, now staring at the ceiling. 

He stares, and stares, and stares until something wet falls down on the sides of his head. Those were tears that were from his eyes.

Unknowingly, he starts to cry. Crying for the loss of time, resources, and more. All for a chance to be bigger than England. Everything on this trip has been in vain. However, it was his fault in a way. His plans were unclear, and Sealand wanted to wing on one plan that might works. But that’s so,_ so _ stupid.

Maybe he should have gone to Melbourne like what Wy said? Maybe he wouldn’t be in a situation where he’s hungry, tired, and feeling dirty but able to take a shower due to mold?

_ Buzz! Buzz! _

His pocket shakes and snaps him out of his daze. He grabs it real quick and read the caller ID.

_ Ladonia _

Sealand blinks, wiping the tears off. Ladonia is calling him? That guy never calls! He just jump out of computers and speak in person. He didn’t even know that guy had a phone. That again, he is a micronation that is known to have a literal online presence.

Sealand picks up and put the device against his ear. 

“Hello?” he says.

“Sealand,” a heavy Swedish voice greets. “Am I seeing this right?”

“Huh?” the British lad is confused. 

“You are being edgy for once!” Ladonia exclaims. “I can’t believe it! You are making Rainbow Creek appear like his namesake!”

“Well, rainbow is apart of his name,” Sealand points out, remembering the four-year-old farmer saying “I had worked hard to get myself in a place where I am now. I seen wars, natural disasters, made international decisions with Hutt River. You don’t tell me what to do.”

His phone suddenly got heated until it begins to tremble so violently. The phone literally jumps out of his hand and lands on the bed with its screen facing up. The screen was completely covered in black-and-white static. Sealand moves away, slightly shocked at the sudden movement, and prepares for eventual. Sealand had seen this phenomenon before, and he can’t believe Ladonia would come during this time.

A flash of lightning blinds the boy for a moment. When the white clears away, he looks up and a red-haired kid of the same age appears a few centimeters behind the phone, sitting cross-legged. His arms were crossed and a disappointed pout was on his lips. His clothes were crisp and white as always as if he wasn’t bothered by the disgusting situation around them. “Rainbow Creek is supposed to be the Edgy Micronation, not you!” Ladonia explains. “Anyways, I’ll get to the point. I have been stalking you with your phone, and man, you sucked at organization and planning!”

“Wait, what?” Sealand blinks. He didn’t just say that. 

“Yes, I have been stalking you, Wy, and all of the micronations online,” Ladonia confirms, only shocking the other boy even more. “I read every article, every blog post, and lemme me tell you -”

“You have been stalking us?” Sealand asks, shell shocked.

“Technically, it’s more like internet research, but you can pick whatever words you want,” Ladonia pulls out his own phone and bring Sealand closer. “But that’s not why I’m here. I got a plan -”

“Wait! Wait!” Sealand raises his hands up. “Plans? What are you talking about? We had never talked about plans before!”

“Sealand,” Ladonia sighs. “Do you want to take advantage of this new era? Do you want an actually good plan for once?”

Sealand didn’t say anything as he plays with his sleeves so nervously.

“You are so weird right now,” Ladonia comments, getting Sealand’s attention. “You’re usually so confident, but you’re like a wet towel right now. It’s so weird, and it’s freaking me out.”

Unknowingly, Sealand starts to pout. “I’m not a wet towel,” he mutters. “I had a really bad day.” 

“Gotta be the worst day ever then, huh?” Ladonia huffs. “I know you, Sealand. Despite what I said about you, one trait I can respect is that you are so determined about your passion.”

“Um, that was the nicest things you ever said to me?” Sealand says, confused. 

“Why is that a question?” Ladonia states with his finger pinching his nose bridge. “Anyways, you feel better now?”

“Not really.”

An air of stillness flows between them before being break by Ladonia’s sigh. “You know what?” Ladonia jumps off the bed. “I had been on Yelp and saw a shop that makes the best fish and chips around here.” Ladonia turns to Sealand with that same pathetic pout on his equally stupid face. “I’ll pay if you want.”

Even as depressed and tired he is, he can’t refuse free fish and chips, especially when he feels like someone scoops out his insides. He nods in agreement, getting Ladonia to grin back. 

* * *

  
  


The chip shop opens surprisingly late and would allow two kids to get a bite too. As Ladonia drips his chips in mayonnaise, Sealand slices the fish into pieces and pops them in his mouth. Ladonia was right about the quality of this place. The chips were crispy on the outside and fluffy in the middle. The fish itself doesn’t have too much breading that would absorb the oil and make it all soggy. It was miles away from England’s fish and chip, who’s chips are always undercooked with a fish that had the consistency and taste of melted plastic. 

“Why did you came here?” Sealand asks between his bites. “You were kinda . . . gone throughout the whole thing.”

Ladonia swallows before wiping his mouth with already used napkin. “Like I said before, I was gone because I was doing research,” he explains. 

“You keep talking about research, but what it’s about actually?”

Ladonia puts down his fork and pulls out his phone. “Look at this,” he points at the screen, which is filled with Swedish words. “These are the notes I took since the beginning of the discovery.” 

“I can’t read it,” Sealand comments. 

“Not the point,” Ladonia inserts. “The research I conducted was about the nations, of course.” Ladonia scrolls down and a long string of pictures shows up. “Italy, Germany, France, and even Bulgaria!”

“Bulgaria?”

“Yes, Bulgaria. Anyways, I noted a pattern between the more famous nations,” Ladonia scrolls down to three pictures in particular. Italy, Iceland, and England himself. “This is the top three examples, according to my research.”

“So!” Ladonia continues. “Strap in because this is almost_ two months _worth of information.”

“Oh boy,” Sealand takes a sip of water, knowing full-well that warning will come true.

“Okay, you know about Italy? More specifically, the northern part,” Ladonia points to the Italy picture. “On the day of the discovery, he created a twitter account, making him the first nation to have a personal account referring to his status. And even if he left a few tweets, granted it was panicked, it causes #Italy to be trending for a few days. Even now, Italy is one of the most talk about nations when referring to personification in general.” 

Ladonia slides down and points to a picture of Iceland. “Now, Iceland is the first nation to be seen via non-consensual ‘YouTubing.’ Anyways, that video went beyond viral. Twitter made fanart and Reddit made memes. It was crazy and it’s still continuing too. I have to stop all notifications from Twitter to get peace and quiet because of it.”

Ladonia slides down and a picture of England appears. “Lastly, Your brother, England, had been an interesting case. He was the first nation to respond to his people with violence.” 

_ I know, _ Sealand thought, remembering that night where the British man yell at him. _ That jerk wasn’t exactly subtle about it. _

“On February 24th to March 10th, fifty-eight people were killed and over three thousand were injured all over the United Kingdom,” Ladonia continues. “However, the most note-worthy is the riot that happened in London, England on March 5th. That’s where a hundred-eighty-three of the three thousand came from as well as fifty-four of the fifty-eight dead. Of course, it had lead a lot of media attention. CNN, BBC, Reddit, YouTube, everywhere. And everyone keeps talking about being close to a month old. I never seen Britain is this much of a crisis than when Diana sabotaged Iain’s baked Alaska.”

“Okay . . .” Sealand says when Ladonia was finished. “What does it have to do with us?”

“Look, I’m going to be blunt,” Ladonia states, putting his phone away. “We both want fame for our individual countries, but in my case, I want more fame."

"Hey!" Sealand says.

"In order to do that," Ladonia continues. "We have to collaborate together.”

“Why can’t you do it on your own?”

“I would, but I don’t have the resources and . . .” Ladonia points at his phone again. “I will get stuck in here again in the middle of my execution.”

“Ah!” Sealand slams his fist into his palm. “You need me because I can’t be random transported into the internet again.”

“Exactly! And I need some money too!” Ladonia points out too. “Like four hundred pound at the most.”

“F-Four hundred pounds?!”

“Listen Sealand,” The Swedish micronation slams his fist on the table and almost knock down their drinks. “I know you want to be famous, but don’t have a plan for it! I am a smart, internet savvy nation with the word ‘organization’ in my bloodstream! However, I don’t have a lot of resources -”

“What do you mean?” Sealand is confused. “Didn’t you built that tall tower thing? Didn’t that require -”

“Look, I don’t want to look uncool, but my Queen doesn’t want me to spend money on this project of mine,” Ladonia explains. “She thinks this is dangerous, but I - I mean, we have to! We have to take the opportunity of glory before it goes away!”

“Okay,” Sealand replies casually. “I’m in.”

“Really?” Ladonia blinks. “I thought it would be harder for you to get in.”

“The reason why I’m in England is because I want fame too,” Sealand explains, putting a piece of fish in his mouth. “But things happened and my original plans didn’t work out.”

“So you will follow mine’s now?” Ladonia asks, still surprised at Sealand’s non-hesitated respond. 

“Yeah,” Sealand states. “I’m willing follow anything at this point.”

* * *

  
  


Today is when Hutt River get discharge from the hospital. Wy is sitting around the waiting room with earbuds in. She is listening to calming instrumentals from YouTube. After all, this will be the first day when Wy will see Hutt River without all of the bandages. The doctors called Hutt River’s case a miracle as he healed everything within a week and regained all of his motor skills and memory. In fact, they wanted other experts take a look at this case as they had never seen anyone healed this fast, but Australia refused, saying “The guy wants to go home now.”

It will be funny when she see Hutt River again. He will be bald for a while.

_ Cute Songs for Anxiety. Cute Songs For Those Who Are Lonely _ , Wy reads the available options next to the video where a lighthearted song plays. She tries to avoid the political videos that YouTube recommended as they suggested that they talk about her and Australia. However, one video from the BBC channel gets her attention. _ Two Nations Livestreams Video Games on Twitch _with a thumbnail of Ladonia of all people. And when she goes into the video, the first thing she saw was those two idiots.

Everyone in the waiting room turns as Wy releases a loud screech from Hell itself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHHH! I DREW A LOT OF PICTURES AND FINISH A COMIC STRIP!
> 
> I am so tired and I can't ignore it. Anyways, thank you so much for reading and sending wonderful comments to me. It means a lot. Just thank you so much. 
> 
> Webcomic: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/a-goddess-handbook/list?title_no=306030  
DA Account: https://www.deviantart.com/almintoms


	12. Micronations - 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Violence against children, intense scenes, and nail ripping scene.

Sealand is a country with amazing and hard-working people. They are small, but they have a rich history as the child was built upon a military base decommissioned from war. The country has a functioning army and had fought in a civil war for God’s sake! But to the lord above, tell this poor child how his life became like this? 

“All right!” Ladonia exclaims as he created a Twitch account under the name of  _ Ladonia&Sealand _ . 

They were going to be streamers. They are going to play video games on Twitch and hope that it will make them famous enough to be considered as countries.  _ What is his life right now?  _

Two hundred and fifty pounds for a  _ Playstation Four _ along with a new facecam, a speakerphone, and a new PC designed for games. In total, it cost around _ a thousand pounds i _ n total, which Sealand’s prince isn’t happy about as it came from  _ his  _ wallet. “Would Twitch donations be enough to get my money?” Sealand asks, turning to Ladonia as the phone in his hand vibrates uncontrollably from his prince’s texts. 

“Of course!” Ladonia states as he sets up the equipment. “You will get your money back or I’ll pay you somehow!”

“That sounds like a lie,” Sealand remarks, putting his phone on silent. “God, is this what it feels like to hand out an international loan? No wonder China is so grumpy with America all the time.”

They were at an Airbnb that Ladonia rented out (fortunately lucky when considering Sealand already made a large dent in his national budget). It’s small but clean with a kitchen and a bedroom with a toilet and a tub. The bedroom itself just contains simple products like a bed, desk, and whatnot. It's the perfect setting to execute their plan together. Well, it’s more like  _ Ladonia’s _ plans at this point.

“I’m not one to talk about this kind of stuff,” Sealand starts as he finishes his talk with his boss. “But this plan is a little out there. Why are we streaming games online?”

“What?” Ladonia turns his head. “You don’t like video games, baby boomer?”

“It’s not that, Ladonia,” Sealand defends, coming closer to the red-haired child. “It’s more like how will games help us to get famous? Even if we start out small, it will take years to develop a sizable fanbase.”

“Well, it’s a start. And with our status as micronations, we will get one in record time.”

“How do you know for sure?”

The red head stops typing for a moment. Ladonia sighs, acting if Sealand was the fool in this situation. “Have you looked through the current situation thoughtly?”

“Um -”

“I assumed not,” Ladonia cuts him off. “How to put it in a way you’ll understand? Italy got famous due to his twitter, but he did it as a response to the riot around one of his government buildings at the time. Iceland got famous due to a YouTube video he did not consent to be in. England is pretty obvious of how he got his fame.”

“I know. You said that a lot,” Sealand states, cringing at the current situation England was in. “But what does it have to do with us?”

“Then I’ll ask you a simple question, Sealand,” Ladonia turns his spinning chair from the desk and faces the sailor boy. “Has there been any nation that is willing to come out with any sort of positivity or excitement? Not fake excitement. I mean, any nation who is genuinely excited or happy to reveal themselves to the world.”

“Denmark,” Sealand instantly says, remembering the Dane quickly became a small meme after what he did at his capital.

Ladonia groans, knowing that it’s true. “Okay! Besides him! What nation came out to the world in some shade of positivity  _ and _ was actually successfully at pulling it?” 

Sealand remains quiet, knowing that there’s no answer. 

“Exactly!” Ladonia exclaims. “No one else besides Denmark. Even then, Den wasn’t successfully at getting fame that is equivalent to the fame gained by Italy or the other two that I have mentioned before.”

_ So England and Iceland are just side characters now?  _ The sailor thought. Sealand then decides to sit on the bed as he already knows that Ladonia will go into another lecture about the theory of the Nations’ fame. 

“You see,” Ladonia continues. “The reason why Denmark didn’t get famous is simple. He took a really horrible approach when considering his situation. Think about this. On Denmark’s file, there is no picture of him and only briefly mentions his actual personality. In that case, we can reasonably compare to _ our _ own situation. So people don't know what to do and what their nation is exactly like. So when Denmark came out by getting on a box and screaming at random people who were trying to live their lives, the internet tore him a new one. ‘What a creep!’ They said, and in a way, they are right. The move Den pulled was really creepy! Even if he has a pretty face.”

“So Denmark didn’t get famous because he was shouting at people on the streets,” Sealand says, pulling his legs towards his body. “What does it have to do with us then?”

“Well, there are many factors to increase our fame, and we can use Denmark due to our similarities,” Ladonia says. “For example, the uniqueness and appropriate to our approach, to friendliness, the ways to prove that we are nations -”

“Speaking of which,” Sealand cuts him off. “How are we going to prove we are nations -”

Ladonia throws an empty paper cup at Sealand’s head, causing the child to be knocked back onto the bed. It wasn’t painful since it’s empty, but it came out of nowhere and surprised Sealand.

“Don’t cut me off while I am in the middle of a sentence!” he exclaims. “I’m getting to that, okay?”

“O-Okay . . .”

“Anyways,” Ladonia continues as he leans back in his chair. “There’s a lot of factors that can lead us to the fame we deserved for so long. I have created several social media accounts before we start streaming, which includes Twitter, Tumblr, Facebook,and yes, I know it’s an old website as I’d gotten several MLM women asking me to join within the first hour of creating the account, and . . . Well, that’s it. I planned to put the link of the stream there and hope people will join.”

“Okay,” Sealand nods. “But how are we going to prove -”

“I’m getting to that!” Ladonia exclams, turning back to the computer and typing furiously “Okay, just to answer your question, here’s what we will do. Did you get your baby pictures yet?”

“No,” Sealand shakes his head. “They are at my home.”

Ladonia groans. “Did you leave your Macbook at your home as well?”

“Well, yeah -”

“Okay, gimme a minute,” Ladonia holds a hand up as he takes a deep breath.  _ God help me . . .  _ he thought.  _ Why did Sealand have to be a baby boomer?  _ As the millennial slowly regrets partnering up with an old man, bright yellow lightning quickly surrounds before Ladonia zaps himself into the computer in order to retrieve those forgotten photos.

Which had left Sealand with his own thoughts as he lay on the bed and facing towards the ceiling. An exhausted sigh slips between her lips.

How did Sealand get himself into this mess? He wants to get famous and get recognition as a nation, but Sealand is doubting that this plan will work. What is the success rate of becoming streamers? Even if Sealand is technically a “boomer” as Ladonia described him, Sealand is worried that no one is willing to watch a pair of twelve-year-olds who just claimed to be nations. Maybe he is being too pessimistic, but he can’t see this going too well.

“You are being weird again!” a voice enters the room. Unknown to him, Ladonia already came back with Sealand’s baby pictures in hand. 

Sealand sits up with that same old frown on his face as another sigh slips.

“Sealand,” Ladonia settles the photo on the desk before turning to his elder. “Are you okay? Like not that I care or anything, but seriously, I never saw you act like _ this _ before.” 

“I’m sorry, but after my first attempt, I’m not feeling up for things like this,” Sealand explains, a headache coming up. 

“That’s BS!” Ladonia exclaims. “You are  _ Sealand _ . You were the micronation that continually slips into world meetings just so you can get noticed! You were the micronation that started a club of other micronations just so you can make plans about how to get famous! Why are you getting cool feet right now?” Ladonia takes a deep breath, quickly recollecting himself. “I’m sorry, but seriously, what is the matter?”

The question lingers in the air and seeps into the young boys’ minds. Sealand can feel his hand becoming wetter from his sweat as the memories of his Buckingham Palace visit. Everyday, when he wakes up, the protest would be there as they shout words of violence and anger. He had seen England become the most depressed drunkard he’d ever seen with him downing Jameson’s and all. Not only that, Sealand saw his brother’s Royal Family in such a state of anxiety and self-pity that it made him think about his own royal family. Will they act the same as the English dynasty? Scared and helpless like dogs in a cage? Would they be held on his port just like the family that was being held at the palace? Would it still be right if Sealand came out and became famous and the worst happened? Oh God, did Wy experience the same thing too? She probably did when she went viral. These are the questions and answers that the boy thought about in these few days alone.

Does Sealand really want to be famous after all he had witnessed?

But Ladonia’s voice breaks the silence growing between them. “Sealand, I understand if you don’t want to stream with me. That is completely fine if you change your mind,” he states. “I’ll change the name and repay you for all of the stuff that you buy when I have enough money.”

“N-No,” Sealand says. “I should be the one saying sorry. I have a lot on my mind recently . . .”

“Like what, if you do not mind me asking?”

“Like . . . some really grim stuff . . .” Sealand explains. “I mean, what if we did become famous? What will happen after that?”

“Are you thinking about the worst case scenario then?” Ladonia asks without getting a reply back. “While I can’t say it wouldn't happen, I can say it is unlikely to happen.”

“How can you know that?” Sealand asks, a bit irritated. 

“Because we are still very small nations,” Ladonia explains. “We got to admit it. We don’t have as much historic clout like the others. I’m in my twenties and you are in your sixties. For humans, we are adults. But we are babies when compared to the thousands of years that other nations have on their belt! We don’t have enough recognition to be in danger!”

“What about Wy?”

“Wy and other Australian micronations are exceptions,” He points out. “There have been many other micronations outside of Australia that came out and received little to no attention. Seriously, NIko Niko Republic has been revealed and no one is talking about it.”

“That’s because he is just a human now,” Sealand states. “He’s married and has a son.”

“Okay, but Molossia and Canadian Prussia have a similar situation to Niko Niko, and they have gained zero attention!” Ladonia furrows his brows and points at Sealand, who still sits on the bed in that same sad state as before. “Sealand, I’m getting mad at you! Do you want to be a part of this or not?”

“Of course,” the sailor boy plainly states. 

“Then stop asking so many questions and trust me!” Ladonia stands from the desk seat and settles sitting next to Sealand with his arms crossed. “I’m not saying that the worst won’t happen, but if we want the recognition we deserved, we must have to take risks!”

“I know.”

“You know, but you still question!” Ladonia grabs Sealand’s hand and lifts it between them, causing the boy to turn and look at the red head. “Look! I’m putting myself at risk too! So you aren’t the only one that is doing this alone. If something were to happen, let it happen to the both of us, okay?”

“Yeah, but -”

“Sealand!” Ladonia calls. “I don’t do this often, but I’ll promise that what happened to you, I will take full responsibility for. You just have to trust me, okay?”

And with that, Sealand didn’t say another word as his heavy heart weighs him down and forces him to go for it with the redhead. 

* * *

It’s the moment of truth now. As the sun set across the horizon, the boys turned on the light in the room and took one final glance at each other with their computer monitor staring back at them. “Are you sure you're ready?” Ladonia asks. “After we cross this together, there’s no going back.”

“I’m ready,” Sealand confirms. “I have been searching for fame since my birth. I can’t turn down this opportunity.”

Without another word, Ladonia presses start.

* * *

An hour in and four viewers later, Sealand realizes his paranoia and energy has been wasted. However, that didn’t bother him as he and Ladonia are playing Minecraft with _ permadeath  _ on. “I swear to God, Sealand,” Ladonia sighs loudly, glaring daggers at the sailor. “If we die again, I will throw you over by that window!”

Sealand grip his controller tighter with such anxiety as his character dives deeper in the cave. “Do you think it’s night time yet?” Sealand asks, collecting some more cobblestone.

“I don’t know,” Ladonia replies. “It’s way easy to lose time of days in a mine.”

“‘Lose time of days’,” Sealand mimics as he breaks his last pickaxe on some iron ores. “I thought one of your official languages was English, Ladonia.”

“It is!” Ladonia softly punches his friend’s shoulder whilst watching the character climb up their makeshift stairs. “Just Swedish is my first language and I mixed English words up all the time.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Sealand replies, putting all of the cobblestone he collected in a chest. “Your English is good. I’m sorry.”

Ladonia slides back in his chair and across his arms with a noticeable pout. However, the banter was cut by a ding. Their first donation has been given and Ladonia is excited. “Hey Sealand! Look!” Ladonia pulls on Sealand’s clothes. “We got one dollar! Isn’t that cool?”

“One dollar less with your debt with me, Ladonia,” Sealand states. 

“It has a comment!” Ladonia comes closer to the screen as he tries to translate the words. “‘Are you guys really nations?’ Well, of course we are!” Ladonia comes back into his seat and points to himself. “I am the Royal Republic of Ladonia!”

“And I’m the Principality of Sealand,” Sealand adds.

“And we are here to make our mark on this planet before any other nations get the same idea!”

_ “By streaming games?” _ A comment from the chat box appears.

“You made it sound like a silly thing to do,” Ladonia says, most bitterly, before sitting up straighter and with his hand balled into a fist. “Nevertheless, we have to make our mark before America shows up and steals our spotlight!”

“Yeah!” Sealand adds as he crafts a few more stone pickaxes. “Hey Ladonia, should I melt some iron ore to have a better pickaxe?”

“Ehhh . . . I don’t think so,” Ladonia directs his attention back to his friend. “We need the iron to make an obsidian generator.”

“Oh, okay.”

Another ping can be heard. Once again, it was another donation of one US dollar. “‘Are those pictures real?’” Ladonia reads out loud. “Of course they’re real! We can’t photoshop this kind of stuff!”

The viewer must be talking about the photos they placed on the screen as proof that they were nations. 

One photo from each child’s past. Sealand’s tinted black-and-white picture was just a picture of the lad when his founders first discovered him. A chubby, blonde-haired toddler in a white nightgown and a large grin that could outshine the sun. Ladonia’s picture, on the other hand, was more recent. It was taken around the 90s, around the time period where his land was established, and has a grainy coloured texture due to age. Ladonia was in a similar white nightgown like Sealand’s, but he appears to be older. At the latest, he was physically six to seven years old when the picture was taken. The photos themselves can’t be fake on the basics that one, they can’t photoshop, and two, they have the physical originals on the side. It’s just that Ladonia scanned these pictures and put them on the stream in frames so they won’t lift up the picture and show it every two seconds.

_ AsaTamago14: I think they are faked. _

_ AsaTamago14: Where are your parents? _

Ladonia growls at the comment in the chat box. “I’m sorry you think that way, but the pictures are one hundred percent real,” he states. “And we don’t have parents. We are nations.”

_ AsaTamago14: Are you guys looking for clout? _

_ AsaTamago14: Sealand and Ladonia are micronations. They aren’t countries. _

_ AsaTamago14: So why are you kids pretending to be nations? _

“We aren’t faking it!” Ladonia’s blood pressure is on the rise as his pale face turns pink. “Sure, we are technically micronations, but we are still their personifications!”

_ AsaTamago14: Y’all fake af _

_ AsaTamago14: You need to stop _

“We are not fake!” Ladonia exclaims. “We are -”

_ Buzz! Buzz! _

“Eh?” Ladonia snaps out of his angered mindset as his phone vibrates uncontrollably. He looks aways from the montiter to see what’s making his phone buzz so frequently. Sixteen messages from his queen within the last three minutes. Unknowingly to both micronations - as Sealand was more forced on the game than the actual stream - their viewer count reaches to the hundreds already.

  
  


**Her Majesty**

Where are you??!

_ Today 6:46 PM _

Where are you

_ Today 6:46 PM _

What is going on?

_ Today 6:46 PM _

Ladonia come back home

_ Today 6:46 PM _

Why are you playing

games online?

_ Today 6:46 PM _

Do you think this is

Funny?

_ Today 6:46 PM _

Please call me back!!!

_ Today 6:47 PM _

If you don’t call me, I am

Calling the police!

_ Today 6:47 PM _

Someone tweet me a picture

Of you streaming!

_ Today 6:47 PM _

I can’t believe you put yourself

Out for the public to see

_ Today 6:47 PM _

Please stop!

_ Today 6:47 PM _

You are going to be kill!

_ Today 6:48 PM _

Stop!

_ Today 6:48 PM _

Stop!

_ Today 6:48 PM\ _

Stop!

_ Today 6:48 PM _

Stop!

_ Today 6:48 PM _

For the first time in a long time, Ladonia is speechless. Someone, by some chance, has tweeted this stream to his Queen. And if anybody knows about her Twitter page, they would know that his Queen has quite a bit of followers to be considered a minor influencer. He looks at Sealand, who remains blissfully unaware about the situation, as he finally reaches the bedrock layer of the pixelated world. “I’m a little mad,” he says casually. “I thought we would find diamonds by now, but nope. Nothing. Hey Ladonia, do you think we really need diamonds for the enchantment table? Or can we make do?”

Then slowly, Ladonia looks over the chat and feels his heart dropping to the bottom of his feet when he sees the numbers.

_ 5.2K Viewers _

If Ladonia opens his mouth now, he would be screaming. However, he nudges Sealand’s shoulder with his sudden rigid movements. Sealand pauses the game and turns towards a pale Ladonia. “Um,” Sealand raises a brow. “What is going on . . . ?”

“We. . .” The Swedish micronation swallows a lump. “We’d just gotten a lot more famous just now.”

“Sorry?”

Ladonia points towards the computer screen as Sealand follows his finger. Then he turns paler than a white sheet when he finally sees the viewer count. “Is that . . . ?” Sealand asks.

“Yeah,” Ladonia replies. “And it’s real.”

Sealand looks over to the chat, and it was buzzing with a flood of comments from people all over the world. Sealand can feel all of the bolts on his port getting tighter with every message he read. 

_ Ara_Ara: You guys ok? _

_ He-Waman: Are you kids actually nations? _

_ SirJackALot: I found this stream on the queen of ladonias twitter page? Is this shit real? _

_ DarkEdge: You guys are wearing cosplay. This can’t be real. _

_ MissComi: They are so cute….. _

_ WhatAreU: What are you guys? _

_ Me_Me_Meme: You look like you’re going to hurl… _

With that, Ladonia reaches over Sealand and ends the stream.

* * *

  
  


“- After the latest news about the Barricade Situation around Buckingham Palace,” the new anchor continues, not once looking up from the papers in his hands. “There have been two noticable nations that have been popping around recently. Though by technicality, they are micronations. These proclaimed micronations, Ladonia and Sealand respectively, have been caught streaming on the Twitch platform. To go into more details, we have Rebecca North. Rebecca.”

“Thank you, Henry,” Rebecca replies. “As you heard, two personifications that supposedly represent the micronations of Ladonia and Sealand had been streaming video games online. While it isn’t confirmed yet as many are looking though England’s and Sweden’s files for these kid, we can say something due to picture they provided during the -”

** _Click!_ **

“- Ladonia is a micronation just near the coast of Sweden,” a YouTuber explains, sipping coffee from his brand name mug. “And Sealand is basically a former British army fort. So - as we can conclude from last week’s discussion about the personification of Wy - just about all micronations are kids. At the oldest, they would be physically seventeen like Seborga, but their physical appearances is what separates them from the actual nations. Because the common theory that has been going around is that modern day micronations are just nations that are still in their ‘childhood’ phase.”

** _Click!_ **

“We still haven’t received any comments from the Royal Families of Sealand or Ladonia yet,” a female YouTuber explains in her bedroom. “However, we can assume that what was presented on their stream last night is real. This is due to many professional photoshop experts coming out and saying that the pictures that they put up are unable to be replicated unless they spent _ thousands _ of dollars on them. Now, on the stream, there were no signs of any adult presence -”

** _Click!_ **

“- We will never know if these kids are actually nation unless we put a bullet through their heads!” A man exclaims. “I mean, let’s be real, people! These kids are here for clout! They aren’t -”

** _Click!_ **

He can’t deal with it. Ladonia has been inside of these cyber walls for hours, and he can’t bear to see any more videos that the internet pumped out. There’s so much attention on them like never before. Seriously! “Ladonia” and “Sealand” have been searched on Google a few thousand times already, and it has been only _ one day _ . 

But damn, the internet is ruthless.

Ladonia wanted fame, but he didn’t expect it to come in so soon and in this amount. However, he doesn’t know if he should get mad or frustrated. He practically asked for it! While he’s curling up within the Worldwide Web, the internet was efficiently analysing, dissecting, and doing whatever with their stream. It’s so scary for him . . .

But Ladonia isn’t stopping his plans as he has no reason to do so. Even his queen, after she cooled down, said that it’s okay as long as he doesn’t get hurt. 

Nevertheless, the young boy turns around and heads back to the real world. As he regains feeling in his fingers and his body turns solid, he can’t help but to notice a large lump on his bed. He takes a long-winding sigh and calls out to the lump. “Sealand,” Ladonia says. “Did you eat anything today?”

No response. But Ladonia can’t exactly blame him for this lack of a reaction. 

Ladonia walks up to the bed and sits near the lump. “Hey,” he says. “I didn’t expect this to happen. I thought it would be a slow burn, not a forest fire.”

“Uh-huh,” Sealand mumbles under the sheets. 

Oh God, that is the most monotone voice that ever came from Sealand.  _ He isn’t taking this well . . . _ Ladonia thought, his mind drowning in accumulating regret. He knew in his bones that he shouldn't have gotten Sealand involved. Sure, the sailor is older than him, but Sealand may be one of the most immature micronations out there. He isn’t mentally ready to receive this much attention no matter if he supposedly wanted it. 

“Look,” the Ladonian starts. “If you want to quit the channel, that’s fine. I can do this kind of stuff by myself, y’know.”

“What are you talking about, Ladonia?” Sealand replies. “I don’t want to quit.”

“Wait, what?”

Just then, Sealand removes the blankets from his face and shows the Swedish micronation his phone. It was a BBC news report about them. “This is what I’d dreamt for my entire life!” Sealand grins. “There’s no way that I will back down from this opportunity now!”

“Wait! Wait!” Ladonia exclaims. “Weren’t you the one that is like ‘I don’t know about this’ yesterday?”

“Yeeeeeah,” Sealand rubs the back of his head before swiping his finger over his phone. “But I’m glad that you were forceful with me. Look!”

Ladonia glances over to the device and sees another YouTuber analysing their stream. “So?” he says, still beyond confused. “What about it?”

“Since when we got YouTubers talking about us?” Sealand states with joy. “Doesn’t this excite you one bit?”

If Ladonia was being honest, the attention they’d gained gave him a small sense of happiness he didn’t realize before. Like the acknowledgement of other people made him feel like a genuine nation. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like pulling out a needle that has been embedded in his skin. A pleasurable relief that one can’t describe unless you experienced it firsthand.

“Nevermind that,” Sealand waves off the question when he notices a lack of response from his friend. “The real issue on hand is that we need to do this thing _ again _ !”

“Do what again?” Ladonia asks.

“The stream!” Sealand exclaims as he raises his arms up and makes the bed bound. “We gotta do it again!”

“Seriously?” Ladonia was bewildered at the mark. “Do you think you should lay low and -” 

“We can’t!” Sealand interjects. “I have to keep the momentum going! For the sake of my people!”

“Didn’t your prince tell you not to do this?” Ladonia asks, unsure where Sealand regained his confidence from. “We can’t go against our leader’s words, man!”

“Yeah, he did in a way,” the sailor explains. “But he knew I had to come out one day, but not on Twitch, you know . . .”

“So does that mean he wants you to continue?”

“Um, I think he preferred me not to, but it’s like not he ordered me to stop. Plus, I brought all of this stuff,” Sealand gestures to the pricey setup in the corner. “I have to get the money back! Also, I wanna check out  _ Fortnite _ too! I heard it’s going well on Twitch with the blue-haired American guy! Let’s see if we can do better!”

Ah, it looks like Sealand is completely back to his maddening ways, and if this is the case, Ladonia shouldn’t ask again. After all, the real Sealand is willing to do anything to be recognized as a country.

* * *

  
  


“Ahh! This is much faster than Minecraft!” Sealand whines. 

“That’s because this is a FSP,” Ladonia explains, annoyed. “It’s supposed to be faster, boomer!”

“Why do you keep calling me that?!” Sealand hands the controller over to Ladonia, who quickly took control over the game. “I’m twelve!”

“Correction: You’re physically twelve,” Ladonia lays down defense and waits behind it for potential fodder. “By heart, you’re a boomer.”

“I’m not!”

“What’s your favorite food then?” 

“What?” Sealand mutters out before recollecting himself to answer the original question. “Um . . . Well, I’m craving savory pies lately, especially with mash and -”

“Savory pies are old people’s food!” Ladonia claims, getting a headshot in the game. 

“No they aren’t!” Sealand blushes of embarrassment. “They’re a classic!”

“Yeah, and that’s the thing through! Classics are old!”

“Ladonia -”

Wy wanted to look away from the stream, but she can’t. Ever since she learned that those two troublemakers were selling their souls to the streaming gods, Wy simply can’t ignore this. The minute she’d gotten home from the hospital, she was watching their streams on YouTube until the sun disappeared from the skies. Wy didn’t have dinner yet, but she ignores her rumbling belly in favour of watching more of these streams. 

“Australia . . .” The toddler mutters out while hiding behind the door. “Wy is acting weird. What’s going on?”

“Yeah,” a teenage girl hiding behind the younger child. “I’d never seen her like this. I mean, she’s kinda standoffish but not anti-social.”

“The hell happened at the hospital?” a teen boy inserts. “Did something happen to her royal family again?”

“I dunno . . .” the toddler comments again. “But this isn’t good. Not one bit.”

From behind the group of micronations, Australia watches him before sighing deeply as a migraine emerges from his skull and rattles all the way to his tight jaw. The doctor told him that he should stay with Hutt River in case something odd were to happen due to his injuries. However, he can’t sit back and let his siblings badmouth their sister like an outcast. As Hutt River tries to drip his spoon into his soup with much struggle, Australia quickly excuses himself and goes over to the younger members. “Hey mates,” he calls, causing the children’s heads to snap towards their elder. “Can you guys watch Hutt for a while? Just make sure he doesn’t choke, okay?”

With some unhappy mumbles, they walk past the man to help their brain damaged brother. “Hutt River is just eating some soup, Australia,” the toddler rumbles in irritation. 

“That soup still has chunks of chicken and vegetables, which he can choke on,” Australia explains as he hustles the boy away. “Now, go on.”

When they finally left, Australia turned to Wy, who was still sitting near her laptop undisturbed. He knocks on the opened door, shocking the poor girl until he almost falls out of her seat. As she yanks her earphones out, she spins around with her hand raised as if preparing to attack something. She quickly lowered it down when she realized that it was just Australia. “Don’t do that!” she whines.

“So do you want to talk or . . . ?” Australia quickly interjects. 

“Talk about what?” Wy turns her back away from the man. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You know,” Australia takes a seat on one of the available beds. “You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“I don’t think anyone has been themselves as of late,” Wy sass. 

“You’re right,” Australia lays on the bed. “But I’m talking about you, Wy. I’m quite concerned.”

“Since when do you get concerned? You can’t focus on an issue without doing ten other things.”

“That’s so mean, but it’s true,” Australia jokes. “Still through, I’m worried. Did something happen to your friends?”

Australia can see Wy stiffen up. “I’m sorry,” Australia says, sitting up. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“. . . You always say things before you think about them first, Australia,” Wy complains. 

“Sorry about that. I’m pretty sure I have undiagnosed ADHD or somethin’.”

“. . . It’s those two boys again,” Wy elaborates. “Sealand and Ladonia just decided to make a Twitch and stream these stupid games.”

“Oh!” Australia gasps. “They are the two lads I’d seen at that Halloween party last year, right?”

“Yeah, and they are being stupid right now. Like what are they thinking? I would kill for that kind of anonymity they had, but they have thrown it away for fame!”

Australia stands up and goes to Wy’s side. “They can’t be  _ that _ famous,” he states. “They are just little funny micronations - Oh.”

Australia was expected their streams to be small with a thousand followers at best. He didn’t think they would have their streams re-uploaded to YouTube and accumulated over two million views within a day. Some of the streams were more popular than his own press released videos with his prime minster. 

“It’s no wonder why you were so worried,” Australia says. “The fame they got will bite them in the -”

“I already know!” Wy exclaims, pulling his knees close to her body. “They are stupid! Absolute morons!” Wy buries her face into her knees, muffering her voice. “Humans are not nice. They will get angry, and when they get angry, they will take it out on them. Even if they are kids. I hate it! But I can’t do anything about it but whine about it! I guess I’m an idiot if I do that, because idiots do the same thing too without doing anything else.”

Unknowingly to Wy, Australia pulls up a chair nearby and listens in. While he considered himself a really bad listener, Australia tries his hardest to not get distracted. Australia remembers when he was a kid himself, no one would take him seriously and always write his emotions off as a hyperactive kid. He can’t do that for his little sister. So for a good half-hour, he just listens. Wy vented her little heart out about her issue. She talk about her two friends and how stupid they were and so on. Australia chimes in here and there, but mostly let Wy do the talking. “Have you tried talking to them now?” Australia interrupts. “I know Sealand left you on read last time, but it had been a good while. Maybe it would be a good time to talk with them?”

Wy pouts, clearly not liking the idea. “I thought about that,” she says. “But those idiots are too dense to take my advice.”

“Okay, do what you feel is right,” Australia states. “You’re a smart little lady, and you know what’s best for yourself. If you don’t want to talk to your friends for now, that’s fine. I just want you to feel comfortable and better than before.”

“‘Kay . . .” Wy mutters.

“Say!” Australia stands up and stretches his limbs out. “I know you haven’t gotten dinner yet! So let’s head out!”

“I’m not that hungry.”

“Well, you have to eat something,” Australia playfully pats her back. “Tell you what, you get off that computer for a while and I’ll make you a Milo.”

Wy looks hesitated. 

“Look,” Australia points out. “I understand that you may feel helpless right now, but staying online for twenty-four hours a day is only going to stress you out. So let’s have a break and go grab something to eat. It won’t fix all of your problems, but it will make you fuller.”

For a second, it seems like Wy was going to throw something at her brother, but however, she stands up and mutters a “fine” under her breath. Australia had to use every muscle in his body to not hug the life out of this child. “I’ll still get that Milo, right?”

“Of course!” Australia states as they walk out together. “I’ll always have Milo on hand in case a kid needs it!”

“Needs?” Wy raises a brow. “What kid needs a Milo? More than half of it is pure sugar.”

“What? Sugar is delicious!” 

“Australia, you of all people shouldn’t have sugar!” Wy claims. “That’s how your ADHD goes from a four to two thoursand on the insanity scale.”

As Australia let out a chuckle, the anxiety Wy that slowly accumulated melts away and slides off of her.

* * *

  
  


This is wonderful. Just wonderful. As their follower count grows and they create their official Twitter account, Sealand and Ladonia decide to up their streaming quality with some polls.

_ What Game do you want us to play next? _

_ Fortnite - 11% _

_ Fire Emblem: Three Houses - 24% _

** _Pokemon Go - 58%_ **

_ Octodad: Dadliest Catch - 7% _

Pokemon Go is a game that requires the player to go outside. The two micronations have to invest in some equipment - a Go-Pro, a selfie stick, and whatnot. Luckily, with the large sum of money they made in the streams, they were able to afford such costly things. 

“How to play Pokemon Go again?” Sealand asks when the app finished.

“It’s pretty simple,” Ladonia replies, checking the equipment one last time. “You create a character, pick a team, and play the game.”

“Not very helpful, but whatever,” Sealand says out loud. 

This will be the first time that these boys will potentially give out revealing information about their location. Sure, people know they are in London, but London is a big place with lots of little secrets. To give the public hints may lead them in being hurt. However, they have quite a simple plan, which consists of not saying the name of their current location and only keeping the camera on their faces. They just hope their stream won’t turn sour.

“Is it rolling?” Sealand asks, holding the go-pro up. 

“It’s rolling,” Ladonia enters into the frame. “Anyways, good day everyone! We’re at an unnamed park, trying to play Pokemon Go!”

“Um, I’m not exactly familiar with Pokemon, but they’re really cute,” Sealand comments. “Like Spongebob characters!”

“This is because he’s a boomer, guys,” Ladonia explains. “But before you start with the memes, he’s a good boomer. He just needs a little help here and there.”

“Seriously, what me being a baby boomer has to deal with Pokemon?” Sealand asks. He swears memes are funny, but he truly doesn't understand the baby boomer memes. Like does he look that old? It may be the sailor suit, but the lad loves that decades old sailor suit. 

“Sealand!” Ladonia calls, snapping the boy out of his mind. “You gotta make your character now!”

“Oh right!”

The stream is going smoothly, considering the inexperience the boys had. After they’d made the character, they picked a team. Sealand wanted to be on Team Mystic due to the blue colour scheme, but Ladonia said it’s for smart people. Sealand still picked Team Mystic because of that statement. 

The whole stream is just an eye-opening experience for the boys from learning how to fix equipment failures to catching Pokemon. The chat was really nice to them by giving them tips and techniques when playing. At the end of the stream, the two micronations wave goodbye to their audience and wish them a wonderful day. 

“See those numbers, Sealand!” Ladonia exclaims as he points to his device. “If we keep the streams up at this rate, we can surpass Ninja!”

As the sun sets, the boys walk back on the quiet streets with only the dimmed lamps lighting the way. “Hey, do you feel like Indian curry?” Sealand asks. “I looked at Yelp the other day and saw a really good restaurant nearby.”

“Ah! I heard the British have a lot of Indian restaurants,” Ladonia comments. “Where is it?”

Like that, they share a meal of warm curry and cheesy naan.

* * *

  
  
  


** _r/aww・_ ** _ Posted by u/HEyoyo 2 hours ago  _

**Despite the current political climate in London, these two micronations stream video games and have the sweetest reactions.**

94% Upvoted

_ Fsdjfs 1.2K points・2 hours ago _

**↕️ ** These kids are making me feel feelings in ways I don’t understand

_ JasonVergin 783 points・1 hour ago _

**↕️ r/cursedcomments**

** ** _ Nerosmartie 723 points・1 hour ago _

** ↕️ ** I think it’s called parental feelings. Like I’m childfree, but I don’t mind if I can adopt them. 

  
  
  


_ AsheSha21 1K points・2 hours ago _

↕️ I know all of the shit and the lack of response from England, but I had never known about Sealand and Ladonia until their streams happened. They are so pure and wholesome. It’s a really nice change in such a political climate.

_ EuroPolitical 853 points・1 hour ago _

** ↕️ ** I just really wish our country would just come out. It has been a week since he or the Queen came outside. It’s starting to piss me off. What’s the problem with them unless they have something to hide? WHAT ARE YOU HIDING, BITCH?!?!?!

_ Nerosmartie 832 points・1 hour ago _

↕️ Please don’t bring politics in this sub. We have other subs for that. 

_ EuroPolitical 853 points・1 hour ago _

↕️ No seriously. The personification of the United Kingdom hasn't come out and is ignoring his own people. His. Own. People. How long do we have to wait until he shows up? Because I am feeling abandoned by this country. For someone who used to be a pirate and was the defining country of the world once, he’s a fucking coward. And we’re the idiots for talking about these worthless “kids”!

_ CreamyDream123 693 points・1 hour ago _

↕️ What’s the fuck your problem? These kids didn’t do anything wrong. All they did was play games online. Why did you call them worthless, your worthless POS?!

_ EuroPolitical 438 points・1 hour ago _

↕️ First off, my problem is the pathetic response we got from our Prime Minister? “Our personification isn’t able to be available at this very moment.” That’s bullshit! He’s immortal. He is essentially a God among us, but he needs to hide? Pathetic. However, these personified kids are making us forget about our actual personification. Who gives a shit about Sealand and Ladonia? THEY AREN’T REAL COUNTRIES!!! WHY DO THEY MATTER? But everyone and their cum dumpster mothers are looking at these kids and saying “KAWAII” and shit. They aren't cute. They aren’t interesting. These kids just need to die so we can focus on actual important shit. Also, they aren’t fucking kids. That Swedish bitch is in his twenties and that Sealand kid is 60+!

_ CreamyDream123 433 points・1 hour ago _

↕️ You’re an asshole. You know that.

_Erika093_ _328 points・1 hour ago_

↕️ Where’s the mods when you need them?

  
  


_ DoxxerMPV 984 points・1 hour ago _

↕️ Here’s all of the location they went to:

Hyde Park :  _ Link _

Zex’s Fish & Chip Shop:  _ Link _

Parkway Road:  _ Link _

Matthew Corner:  _ Link _

Despite looking like children, they are not. Don’t be fooled by their appearance. They are monsters. 

* * *

  
  


“I’m so excited, but I’m nervous too,” Sealand confesses as they walk through a park. “Would they be bored if we do Pokemon Go again?”

“You’re just being dramatic,” Ladonia plays with the camera for a moment. “People would _ love  _ us to play Pokemon Go again. Our stream has been literally trending since Twitter last night! Everyone wants to see it again!”

“Okay,” Sealand says, hiding the nervousness away. 

The sun just started to rise in the distance, blanketing the world in its orange hue. The park is relatively quiet with only the birds chirping and rustling leaves. The scene reminds Sealand of his home on that base. He would wake up early and see the sun rise. A sense of calmness flows through him as he stares off in the distance. “Oi! Sealand!” Ladonia calls. “It’s ready! Let’s go!”

“‘Kay!” the sailor rushes to his friend’s side and quickly gets into position. 

“Okay . . . One, two, three, we are rolling,” Ladonia starts the stream as floods of people greet them in the chat. “Good morning, everyone! And since a lot of people really like our Pokemon go stream, we decided to play it again.” 

“Also, thank you for helping me yesterday too,” Sealand says. “It was so nice of your guys to be patient with me. I’m not good with video games like these, but I think I’m getting the hang of this.”

“Sealand only plays Minecraft and nothing else,” Ladonia chuckles. “He didn’t play Super Mario Bros when it came out.”

“But I like Minecraft,” Sealand whines. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, but you need to widen your horizon a bit. You know, taste some RPGs and other trends you’d miss out.”

“But I still don’t like Fortnite. It’s too fast to play!”

The stream is loving the interaction before them. It’s so cute and wholesome that it redeems the sulled atmosphere looming over the UK. The “innocent” Sealand and the “sharp-tongued” Ladonia is such a fun duo to watch. Most people have little to complain about.  _ Most  _ people though.

Despite being kids, some arseholes want to spite them. They tell them such things “Your personality is fake!”, “What is this shit? Why are we watching them?”, “Ew, this is so cringy to watch.”, and “They aren’t human! They need to be caged!”

However, dozens of people didn’t like this kind of harassment and quickly banished them to the internet void. Still through, that doesn’t stop people from sending these kids death threats. Ladonia is even considering getting mods to check for these comments during their stream. 

_ Doxxer3212: Do you think you’re safe, fuckers? _

_ MissComi: You’re doing great, sweeties! _

_ KENCinnmon: Remember to go to Pokestops often. It’ll help you! _

_ TehMan: Wait, what? _

_ Doxxer3212: I can’t believe you guys aren’t arrested for being such abominations against nature? _

_ Ara_Ara: wtf? What’s with this person?  _

_ CoolieMatt: Dude, these are kids. _

_ Doxxer3212: CALL THESE THINGS KIDS?! ARE YOU CRAZY?! _

_ Doxxer3212: These things aren’t kids. They are fucking abominations!  _

_ Doxxer3212: People said “these are kids”, but really, they are older than you or your grandfather.  _

_ Doxxer3212: Don’t call these things “cute.” They are unnatural monsters. _

_ RealMum842: wtf? _

_ Kail_futa: Mods? Do these kids have mods? _

_ DckJohnny: You can’t shit on children, even if they aren’t human. You don’t shit on kitten, now don’t you? _

_ Yikes _ , Ladonia thought.  _ Doxxer3212, who crawled up your butt and died? _ But again, he isn’t too worried. They get messages like these dozens of times a day along. To be honest, Ladonia feels bad for them as their growing fandom would attack back with extreme prejudice. He only can hope that their fandom wouldn’t get worse. “Ladonia!” Sealand calls, excited. “I think I found a rare Pokemon!”

“Oh!” Ladonia looks away from the chat. “What is it?”

“Um, it’s a  _ Rattata  _ \- ta?” Sealand says, pointing at the screen. “I dunno if it’s rare, but what does the chat say?”

Similarly, Ladonia doesn’t know much about Pokemon Go. Of course, Ladonia grew up with Pokemon, but this game is pretty much new to him. However, their kind audience often help with their confusion and give them tips about the gameplay. 

However, when Ladonia looked back at the chat, he didn’t find the kindness he expected.

_ RealMum842: You're disgusting. _

_ MikeyPro: RAID! RAID! RAID! _

_ MrLooks: Your ass is going to be set on fire! _

_ Ara_Ara: Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you guys?!?! _

_ Doxxer3212: listen bitch, they deserved it. _

_ Doxxer3212: this needs to be done! _

_ CAke_Cake: meet me at the park! _

_ MissComi: Kids, YOU NEED TO RUN. NOW! _

“Huh?” Ladonia scrolls up in his chat, trying to figure what just happened. “What are you guys even talking about?”

“Sorry?” Sealand looks away from his game.

“Everyone in the chat is panicking.”

“Wait really?” Sealand leans over Ladonia, reading some of the comments. “What happened?”

“Well, that’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

_ MissComi: SOMEONE ON REDDIT DOXXED YOU! _

_ MissComi: RUN!!!!!!!!!!!! _

_ Doxxer3212: Fuck you, you monsters! _

_ CAke_Cake: Oh boy, you will not see this coming. _

“Okay, we need to go,” Ladonia states as panic suddenly floods into his system. 

“Huh?” Sealand blinks, not having enough time to read anything. 

“Don’t question it,” Ladonia reaches over the equipment and shuts down the stream. “Just let’s go!”

* * *

The police may not help in a situation like this. Ladonia and Sealand are micronations and not normal kids. In today’s political climate, they were unsure if going to the police will help them or lead them to more trouble. But one thing is certain, they needed to get out of the park now. “Are you sure we have been doxxed?” Sealand asks, quickly following the speed-walking Ladonia. “Also, what is doxxing?”

“Now, it’s not the time for questions,” Ladonia retorts, quickly browsing Google on his phone. The chat is right. Their information is everywhere. On Reddit, Twitter,  _ everywhere _ . 

“The Airbnb isn’t safe anymore,” Ladonia states, weaving his fingers into his hair. “But our passports are still there. Let’s just get the necessaries and get out!”

“Where would we go then?” Sealand asks, still confused about the situation. 

“I don’t know yet,” Ladonia quickly answers. “Maybe we have to go home?”

“Home! You can’t be serious, Ladonia! We only just got started!“

“Twitch can wait, idiot!” Ladonia exclaims, panic slipping into his voice. “Don’t your understand that we could be attacked at any -”

Wait, where were they? Ladonia was so focused on the problem on hand that he didn’t realize that he made the wrong turn a few blocks ago. Now, they are in an unfamiliar suburban with lines of tall buildings. The kids were at school and the adults are at work by now. There is no one to see them panicking as they realize that this could spell disaster. “Google maps!” Ladonia swipes through his phone. “Google map, where are we?” 

“Who are they?” Sealand asks suddenly. 

Ladonia’s blood grows cold as he spins around to see a rapidly approaching group. He could see they have poles and other blunt instruments on hands. Ladonia takes Sealand by the arm and dash away from the group. The group soon bolt too, quickly catching up with the boys.

“Where the fuck are you going, freaks?!” one of the men shouts, throwing a rock at the kids. 

As the rock crashes besides their speeding feet, they could hear their rushing heartbeats in their ears. Their immortal bodies can overlast any human’s, but they are still kids with short legs being chased by adrenaline-fueled adults that are slowly catching up. The children follow twist and turns on the available path in hopes of getting the psychopaths off their backs. In a span that feels like a million years, they finally made a mistake by ducking into an alleyway. A tall black brick wall stands, looming before them. “Damnit! Damnit!  _ Damnit! _ ” Ladonia claws that the wall, reaching and grabbing each edge of every brick he could get. 

“Sealand! Do something, idiot!” he shouts, digging his nails into the concrete between the layers and splitting them to their nail beds. “They’re comin’!”

Sealand still stands there in shock. Just a few moments ago, they were having fun with playing Pokemon Go, but now, some people that they’d never met wanted to  _ murder  _ them. Tears quickly well in his eyes as sobs slips out. Panic had turned the boy into stone, and now, he can’t process the world around him. 

However, he could hear  _ their _ footsteps approaching them.

Ladonia looks back with tears pouring down his cheek as desperate gasps of exhaustion comes in rhythm. They are coming, and he could see their weapons ready in their hands. Ladonia glances back to Sealand, who now have a teary blank stare on his face. Ladonia feels the weight of his phone in his pocket. There’s only one solution for him in particular.

_ I’m sorry, Sealand, _ Ladonia takes out his phone and checks for his online data.  _ I’ll call the police.  _

* * *

  
  


Andrew Fern was a normal man that works for a normal office job. He goes in, works for eight hours, comes back home to watch some TV or browse the internet. Everything about him was normal. 

However, when he hears about these immortal beings who represent each and every country, he can’t help but to feel this gross feeling crawling all over him. Was all knowledge about world history a complete utter lie? If these  _ things _ can change the world of politics and history by existing, what kind of life they lived in? Were they human at all? Or just look like it? Who are they?  _ What are they? _

Questions just filled his mind until the riots happened. He had seen it on the streets. People screaming, yelling, demanding for answers to only be beaten down by the army. Some of the people who were hurted were his friends and coworkers. This must be this personification doing. After all, they  _ are _ the country. This thing controls the military, the economy,  _ everything in their lives _ .

As anger and bitterness filled Andrew as he continued to read news about the personifications, he saw two little children. They called themselves "Sealand” and “Ladonia” and claimed to be micronations. Now, at this point, Andrew was following local conspiracy theories on Reddit, like could the Italy Brothers be descendants of the Roman war god, Mars, and if America was connected to MK Ultra, but nothing could have prepared him for this theory.

_ Micronations are just regular nations in their “childhood phase.” Once they get enough political and economic power to be considered as “nations,” they will turn into an adult. Which will explain why so many personified micronations are obsessed with “growing bigger.” _

My God . . . What would happen to their lands after they played on streams for a while? Would their countries grow bigger and more powerful? If that happens, what would their impact on the world be? According to sources, Sealand is England’s blood brother. Could that mean that they may follow in his footsteps and colonize the world again? If that happens, who will stop him in this day-and-age? 

Each passing day just gives him more anxiety and stress that he couldn’t eat anymore. He could sleep. He couldn’t do anything. Hell, he lost his job due to not coming in for work. 

But it’s all those  _ creatures’  _ fault anyways. 

With all of his newfound free time and the little money he has, Andre joined a group to plan the downfall of these things. However, what no one expects from the personification is that one of them can turn himself into lightning and get absorbed into the internet  _ literally _ . The phone hits the ground with a crash as Sealand stands there, frozen in shock.

One of the men takes Sealand by the shoulder and slams him in the nearest wall. “The fuck is that other kid, brat?” He roughly asks. 

As if the realization that he was in danger just came to him, this “boy” starts tearing up at the question. “I - I -” he stutters and fails to collect his words. 

“What the fuck happened, little bitch?” a fist slams next to Sealand’s head as the child flinches away. “What happened to that Swiss kid, huh? How did he do it?!” As the group begins to surround the child, the man yanks Sealand’s hair up, causing the boy to hiss in pain and face the men. 

“What just happened?” the man asks, swirls of anger fill his eyes. “That kid just disappeared out of thin air. I know you guys aren’t human, but -” The man let out of the hair and rams Sealand back to the wall. “ _ What is that? _ ”

Slow, whining sobs pour out from the child’s face and snot and tears run down to his child and collects on his shirt. If this child was a human, then the men would feel bad. However, this thing isn’t a kid. This baby-faced thing is questionably older than their _ grandparents _ . It’s such an unnatural idea that it made Andrew sick to his stomach. 

“L-Let me go!” The child tries to wriggle his way out, but the man has a firm gasp. “I don’t know what you want!”

“You know what we want!” the man states. “You’re a fucking abomination against God! You lived on this earth for many years,  _ much older than us _ , but you go ’Wah! Wah! Mummy!’ Just fuckin’ -”

He couldn’t finish his sentence. Not with an uppercut from the brat himself. 

The man, as if it was force from God, has been slammed against the opposite side of the alley. The group hears a  _ crunch  _ and a _ crack _ as their friend makes contact. The man screeches and slides down the wal, revealing a notable dent in the brick wall. They were horrified. 

Sealand tries to sneak away from the group, but a voice halted his escape. “Don’t let him get away!” 

What came next was a flat-out brawl. Sealand, a micronation made out of steel, smashes his elbow into another’s belly. He backs off and coughs up a stream of blood. As he went down, his friend went in, grabbing the sailor by the shirt. Sealand bites down on his arm until he accidentally rips a chuck of flesh. Sealand spits it out as the victim succumbs to the stinging pain flowing through his limb. Now with tears running down his cheeks and metallic blood lingering in his mouth, Sealand wants to go home.

This has been a mistake. All he wants is to go home. 

He punches. He screams. He draws blood under his nails. And when they tried to attack, they only heard a clunk when their weapons hit as the boy still stands. Sealand didn’t stop his attack. Not when they gave up. Not when the police came. He stops when he passes out from mental exhaustion.

He was drove to a hospital with bloody clothing and a body count.

* * *

England isn’t having a good time. He knew whiskey gives him the worst hangovers, but he drinks it anyways since he’s stupid. “Please shut the lights out,” he curls into his blanket, covering his head. “Why is the sun out? Put it away . . .”

He feels like God is punishing him for his many years of colonization, piracy, and Beatlemania. But it doesn’t help when someone is knocking on his door. 

_ Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! _

England hesitantly pulls the covers from his head. He curses under his breath as he gets up and swings open the door. “ _ What? _ ” he asks roughly.

“Sir,” the messenger starts. “Your little brother is in the hospital.”

* * *

  
  


When Sealand woke up again, a bright light appeared in front of him. It blinds him with its white rays as the boy tries to cover his eyes but notices a certain weight on his arm. His eyes adjust and see that it’s an IV. “You’re really stupid, Sealand,” a familar voice echoes. “Just stupid . . .”

Sealand turns to his bedside and sees the red-haired child with crossed arms and a worried expression. “L-Ladonia!” Sealand croaks before bending over and dry coughing. God, what is the last time he drank something?

“We should buzz a nurse in,” Ladonia suggests. “You have been out for a while.”

“Like how long?” Sealand asks.

“Enough time for the media to pick up on us and for all of the protesters from Buckingham Palace to come  _ here _ .”

Sealand froze at his words. The world went silent when he heard that awful news.

“You can look out of the window or check our twitter page,” Ladonia reaches to Sealand’s side and presses a nurse buzzer. “You can choose whatever.”

Why did his mouth become even more dry than before? His thin hands begin to shake with anxiety. Is what Ladonia said is true? It can’t be true. He hasn't been out for more than an hour. Still though, why does he have an IV, hospital clothes, and everything? 

“Death to the nations!” a shout rings from the window. Sealand turns to the window and is horrified by what he sees. A crowd that spreads across the yard until there’s no green hill to be seen. And some don't seem to be protesters at all. Actually, there’s a few news vans outside with reporters and cameras. But most notably was the police are here and armed to the brim with non lethal weapons and riot gear. So far, their gear seems to be unused.

“How did this happen?” Sealand asks again. His lungs began to tighten. 

“Don’t you remember?” Ladonia says offhandedly. “If you did that much damage, then surely you have to remember something.”

“No, I don’t.”

That’s a little bit of a lie. Sealand does remember panicking and hitting someone, but what damage are they talking about? But then he realized one fact he was so proud of when talking to the “stronger” nations. 

_ His fists were made completely out of metal.  _

Sealand recalls the time when he swung his fist towards another nation and that guy went bouncing around the room like a pinball. He could only imagine what kind of damage he inflicted on a _ fleshly , mortal human _ . “Twitter!” Sealand demands. “What’s going on there?”

“Um, you sure you want to do that?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I just need to know.”

“Okay,” Ladonia takes out his newly cracked phone and hands it to the sailor. “But don’t cry when you see the tweets.”

Twitter is quite quick when it comes to the latest news, but Sealand didn’t expect his name to be on the trending list. What exactly happened within the hours he had been asleep? Hestiely, Sealand taps on the tag and begins his trip to the rabbit hole.

  
  


**SakuraBliss12** @SakuraBliss

Okay, y’all need to chill

The fuck down because you are

Attacking a literal CHILD for

Something that was clear as day.

#Sealand

**12.3k** likes  **42k** retweets

|

**SakuraBliss12** @SakuraBliss

I don’t give a shit about

How he “attacked” 

Another human being. BITCH!

|

**SakuraBliss12** @SakuraBliss

If you planned to attack him

First and he broke your

Dumbass for doing so, don’t claim it

Was a attack!

|

**SakuraBliss12** @SakuraBliss

I am a mother, and these

Are the sweetest kids i’d ever

Seen. DO NOT ATTACK THEM

|

**Cell ** @CellSTEM1331

Go and choke on a

Dick, whore.

  
  
  


**REM_REM** @AnimeChic40

I don’t get why people

Would attack #Sealand. He

Seems to be a really nice boy.

  
  


**10.1k** likes  **12.1k** retweets

|

**Mew** @MewThee

He attacked a group

And BROKE their bones. 

Some of them needs surgery

And some of them probably can’t

Walk ever again.

|

**DonNut ** @TheHOOOLe

But wasn’t it in self

Defense?

  
  
  


**ChocoNutty ** @CheckRi1234

Okay, so far, we don’t know

If Sealand is innocent or not.

All we know that it was planned attack

After they got doxxed. #Sealand

|   
  


**DonNut ** @TheHOOOLe

You sound like

AIDS.

For a whole hour, Sealand read tweets under that cursed hashtag. Within the few tweets, he got the news. Sealand, a person who’s physically twelve years old, has injured all of his assaulters at least in one area of their bodies.

At. Least. In. One. Area. 

One of them just has a fracture in their arm. Another has broken ribs and spine, which many said he will not be able to walk again. But the one that truly got to him is the one that was in critical condition. They said that if he does survive the damage Sealand put him through, he will be essentially a vegetable for the rest of his life.

Sealand did this.

Not only, he may have _ murdered _ a man. That if he survives, he won’t be truly living anymore. He would have stayed in a hospital and needed the help of others to clear him, to feed him, to do anything for him. And it was all of  _ his _ fault. Sealand knew he could cause a lot of damage with his steel fist, but this is the first time he swung at humans before! What will they families do about it?

My God, what will his leaders do? What will the media do to them? Sealand just tainted -  _ ruined _ \- their name with this incident and it will follow them throughout the rest of Sealand’s history! What will his king and prince do? How will their whole family cope!  _ This is all his fault! _

Unnoticed tears slide how his face and sobs force their way out from his lungs. Ladonia takes the phone from Sealand’s loosen grip and sighs. “Hey,” he starts. “They attacked us first. This wasn’t your fault.”

“ _ Yes, it was! _ ” Sealand cries. “I - I did this! Me - of all people - did this!”

Ladonia shuts his mouth tight, not knowing what else to say. 

“Ladonia,” Sealand wipes his tears on his sleeve. “What will we do now?”

Ladonia remains silent.

* * *

_ Damn you, Sealand! _ England curses as he marches up the halls with two army men on his side.  _ I told you to go home! _

His hangover headache still rings in his head. He had to stop for a few seconds so the white noise settled. Why? In the name of his God, why did this happen? The idiotic child had killed a man and the media is buzzing around it. Not only that, England, after staying with his Queen for so long, emerged from the palace with a quickly thrown on suit. It seems like the whole goddamn world exploded. 

_ “Mr. Kirkland! I’m from BBC -” _

_ “Mr. Kirkland! What have you been doing with the Queen?” _

_ “What’s your plans after this discovery?” _

_ “Mr. Kirkland -” _

Reporters are parasites, he swears. However, when his emergency visit for Sealand was the peak of his shittest day, his phone rings. He stops for a moment, apologizes to the soldiers (because despite circumstances, England is still a gentleman), and looks at his caller ID. His heart stops when he sees who it is.

_ American Mistake is Calling . . . _

Why is America calling him of all people? That git has been totally silent throughout the whole discovery. Hell, his own government won’t acknowledge the whole discovery and it has been a _ few months _ already! But England still picks it up like the idiot he is.

“What do you want, America?” England asks, irritated. 

“Heeeeey Britain,” America says with fake cheerfulness. “How’ve you been?”

“Quit it, child. What do you want?”

“Um,” America starts. “I’m just gonna put this blunt. There will be an emergency World Meeting in Portugal's place within the next few months.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S BACK! AND I'M BACK WITH FOUR PICTURES AND ALMOST 11,00 WORDS!
> 
> No seriously, I'm really sorry for making you wait for so long and the quality of this chapter. I hope you guys enjoy this. 
> 
> Anyways, I have to went away with school, a few other projects (Webcomics and other fan projects). Your guys' comments are what really keep me going when writing this monster. When I feel down, I just go to mu older comment and re-read them. Those sweet words you guys wrote is like fuel. Like "YEEEAH! LET"S GO!"
> 
> Also, I have a plan on ending this story at chapter 30. I have an ending in mind and I want to make it a banger! Just thank you so, so much for all of the support (Kudos, comments, subscriptions, everything.).
> 
> Just thank you so much.
> 
> Webcomic: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/a-goddess-handbook/list?title_no=306030  
DA Account: https://www.deviantart.com/almintoms


	13. North America - 1

Despite stereotypes, Canadians aren’t always chilled. People always forget that during World War II, they were a beast to deal with. Canadians, in all of their golden maple glory and two official languages, did a lot for World War II, but no one acknowledged them for it unless they are from the Netherlands. However, since this discovery, Matthew - the personification of Canada - has had a small vacation from politics and played Animal Crossing in his bed while his bear friend has a long nap. 

For the most part, his people have been calm. Especially If you discounted the many empty threats that were sent to his bosses and the small protest here and there, Canada is pretty content with his situation. From now on, he can wait until this things blows over -

_ Ring! Ring! Ring! _

When he sees his brother’s name on his phone, Matthew pauses his game and begrudgingly picks the call up. “Hello, America,” he greets, monotone. “What do you want again?”

“Why do you think I want something, Canadia?” the annoyingly cheerful voice fills the man’s head. “Can I just give my own brother a call?”

“ _ You haven’t picked any of my calls before _ ,” Matthew sits up as his anger slips out. “You haven’t picked up any other nations’ calls! Even your own bosses picked up their calls, but never you!”

“Ahaha . . . Sorry,” America says, his tone more quiet than before. “But seriously Canada, we need to talk. It’s about . . . you know.”

_ The discovery? _ Matthew thought. “Are you finally doing something about it then?” 

“Yeah, and you’re in Toronto right now, right?” Matthew could hear shuffling in the background. “I can get you a plane over to New York and we can talk in person, ‘kay?”

“Wait a minute, America! Why can’t we talk on the phone?” 

America pauses for a moment. “There is something that I want to show you in person. It’s something that I can’t take lightly.”

This peaks Matthew’s interest. “This isn’t some joke, is it?” he asks slowly.

“No, it’s serious. Just come tomorrow, okay? Your boss won’t be even mad about it,” America states.

Matthew sighs and agrees to go along with his brother’s questionable plans. He has a lot of time to kill, and going along with his brother can entertain him for a bit. However, this is probably one of America’s things where Matthew is going to get embarrassed, annoyed, hurt, or all three. However, Matthew will leave before such things were to happen.

“Also, can you get some poutine before you go? I wanna try something, but I need some authentic Canadian poutine first!”

He will leave before painful things ever happen.

* * *

Air Canada is a hideous creature that needs to die and burn in the fiery pits of Hell.

_ Tried to cancel my flight without notifications,  _ Canada wobbles out of the plane with the minimum amount of luggage in hand.  _ Tried to delay the flight without notice. Tried to sit me on the opposite side of my actual seat! Why did I think Air Canada is a good idea to make? _

His back is sore from sitting in a lumpy seat. The hoodie he wears is tainted with the smell of BO from his seat neighbor. Even her little curl seems stressed as it wasn’t a curl anymore. It’s just a flyaway hair with no personality! Even the poor thing had given up on life due to Air Canada’s service. He regrets having America book his flight for him. Matthew looks around the rushing airport to find any signs of his brother. His flashy little brother should be around here, doing what he does best. Flashing.

However, considering he stepped out of a plane and waited for a full minute, Matthew realizes he isn’t having the ultra-American to pick him up when there’s no physical harm to his being yet. “Are you Matthew Williams?” a voice asks behind him.

Matthew turns around and sees two tall men in black suits.  _ Secret Services . . . _ he signs internally before nodding. He wishes his brother would choose something more subtle for his transportation. Not these goons. The men whispers something to their eyepieces before pulling the Canadian outside where a black Tahoe is waiting for him. Matthew can feel his soul dying a little at the “subtlety” of his brother. Honestly, he’ll be surprised if he made it to America’s apartment before getting exposed by the media. Again. “We will reach our destination within twenty-five minutes,” one of the agents says as he gets into the driver’s seat. “Also, your brothers send you these to snack on.”

“Oh?” Matthew mutters as he gets in the backseat. Usually, when America gives him snacks, it can be really good, really bad, or surprisingly delicious (Kool-Aid Pickles is one, for example.) because despite what _ Grand Frère _ said, America takes food seriously. Albert, he did inherit England’s experimental nature with foods.

As the agent tosses him the treats, Matthew is surprised to find that it’s maple candies.  _ That’s weird . . .  _ he thought. Since when did America care for his preferences? He turns over the package to see if the maple syrup used is from Vermont or some other state. But no, it’s actually from his home and was made with a respected company. Like, Matthew knew their great-great-grandfather when he made syrup kind of respect. Like, Matthew made syrup every winter during the 1800s and is very familiar with the trees kind of respect. 

_ What is he planning? _ Matthew pops a candy in his mouth and savors the sweet delight.  _ I know he’s buttering me up for something. _

* * *

Personally, Matthew wanted to believe that America feels guilty for all of this mess he’d made. That because of his reckless actions created so much chaos that the Earth may crack under it, he should have felt bad. However, this is America. This idiot doesn't feel bad for anything or anyone. “Mattie!” his brother exclaims before pulling the Canadian in an uncomfortable hug. “How’d you been? It's been forever since I saw you!”

“Meh,” Matthew replies, trying to shove his brother away only to fail. Damn his over-budgeted military strength. It’s the only reason why he’s so unreasonably strong. The agents stare blankly as it’s probably one of the many times they saw their country act like this. As America finally lets go and lets his brother breathe, he jumps up with joy. “Oh!” he exclaims. “Do you have the poutine yet? Oh boy, I’m so excited!”

Excited for what? It’s just fried potatoes with cheese curds and gravy. It’s not that special when compared to other things America created to satisfy his pregnant mother-like cravings (Mayo and peanut butter sandwiches with pickles is one). Already pissed from this treatment, Matthew quietly takes out a plastic container from his luggage and hands it over. “Here,” he says. “Now, can you tell me -”

“Hey Canada!” America interrupts. “Can I steal you for a bit? I wanna show you something!”

Matthew huffs as America finally dismisses the agents and drags his brother to his kitchen. America slams down the container on the counter and rips off the lid to only gasp at the sight of his food. “ _ I’m in the eyes of God! _ ” he screams with wide eyes.

“Um, America -” Before Matthew can get his words out, America points to the fridge.

“There’s some pulled pork in there and I wanna put it on this beautiful creation before eating it!” 

Matthew takes a deep and long breath, only calming his anger for a brief minute, as he gets the chilled pork from the fridge. “Here.”

America takes the pork away from him and dumps it on the poutine, ruining the Canadian’s perfect creation. Matthew has to grit his teeth together and hold back his anger. “America -”

“You got to try this out, Canadia!” America shouts with his mouth filled with soft fries and greasy meat as he offers his abomination to his brother. “It’s good!”

Pieces of potato and gravy fling themselves on Matthew’s face. He only could wipe the mess in eerily silence. “America -”

“Also,” America swallows. “Whatcha need?”

That’s it. All of his anger, his frustration, and previous interactions with Air Canada is getting to the Canadian personification. For many months of silence to only be faced by the same incompetent man who basically caused so much damage and have yet to respond other than “I’m working on it.” The same guy who’s bosses said “it was the Russians” again despite the fact that people who hacked into their system were natural born Americans, and everyone knows that. This damn id -

“You’re an idiot, but you already knew that, huh?” Matthew states, barely holding back his venom. “How dare you act like everything is okay?”

“Huh?” America seems genuinely confused as he sets down the food and swallows.

“ _ Have you realized what you did? _ ” Matthew raises his soft voice to a screech. “Many nations across the world are  _ suffering _ because of your stupidity! Suf-fer-ing!”

“I beg your pardon?”

Matthew grunts. “Fine!” he says. “Do I have to spell it out for you? Some countries are in literal  _ anarchy _ because of you and the goddamn discovery! But you still have to gull to pretend that you’re the  _ Mère Marie _ in this situation!”

“ _ Mère? _ ” America blinks as his brother comes closer to him. 

“Mother Mary, idiot,” Matthew continues in a growl. “But are you even listening to me? Do you know how many emails I got from other countries that I don’t even associate with? They asked - No, they  _ begged _ me for information because I was your brother. ‘Where is he?’ and ‘Did he get our emails?’ are the most common. There are personifications who are so desperate that they flooded my email system and caused it to shut down for a few  _ days _ ! No one in my government couldn’t talk with each other without jumping through hoops! Like Christ! I felt like I’m back before electricity was a thing when that happened!”

“I -”

“ _ Let me finish _ ,” Matthew states. 

“You had made no attempts to solve or lessen the effects of the discovery. You just let those files float around the internet like it’s no problem. There wasn’t even an attempt to take them down. All in the while you were increasing your obesity epidemic by ruining my poutine. People are  _ hurting _ their personifications out of fear. People are creating a new religion out of it. Some crazies are even calling for the execution of personifications too! Have you heard from Romania and Bulgaria? They are hiding in  _ Russia’s place _ because they are more scared of their own people lynching them than facing Russia. Russia of all people.  _ Russia! _ ”

“You need to fuckin’ chill, bro!” America stands up, raising his tone. “I have been working on it!”

“Oh yeah?” Matthew quirks a brow before shoving his brother back to the counter. “Then why aren’t we hearing about your efforts then?”

“It’s taking a while to prepare! But we are getting to the finishing line, dude!” America calmly states, rubbing his bruising side. “That’s why you’re here. I need your help.”

“I’m sorry?” Matthew’s collecting rage slows.”Are you serious right now?”

“I. Need. Your. Help,” America speaks slowly. “Can you do that?”

Matthew pauses. He can’t be serious. This is America that he is facing. The only times he is efficient and helpful is starting and ending wars, but even that is questionable at best. “Um, sure,” Matthew is saying this to amused his brother. “Show me what you got and if it’s not good, I’m going back home.”

“Great!” America claps his hands together. “You won’t be disappointed, bro!”

Matthew is preparing to be disappointed. America grabs his food and asks the Canadian to follow him to his bedroom. It's a melodramatic walk. Nothing exciting beside America’s chewing sounds fills the hallway. For someone who’s still classified as a “teen”, America’s room is quite clean. Sure, there is a coffee mug near his bedside and a basket of dirty clothes that needed to be washed, but nothing too chaotic. Yet.

America pulls up a chair from his desk and signals his brother to come and sit on his bed. “Bro, I swear,” he starts. “I’ll make it worth your time. Promise!” 

Matthew rolls his eyes and follows the order. If it’s another YouTube explaining shit that they already knew, he’s going to drink tonight. America just types away on his computer while just stuffs his face with the remaining poutine. It only took three minutes for America to pull up something. “Ta-da!” America loudly presents. “This is what I have been working on! I told ya I’m not lazy!”

While it’s not a YouTube video like he expected, it’s some word document with less pages than a novella.  _ Whatever _ , Matthew leans in to read.  _ Let’s get this over with. _

  
  


_ OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT TO ALL PERSONIFICATIONS: _

_ EMERGENCY WORLD MEETING ON JUNE 3, 20XX AT 13:00 _

_ AT THE SÃO BENTO PALACE, PORTUGAL _

_ As much as you guys want to yell at me, please hear me out before you destroy my email system again. Yes, this is real. I have made detailed arrangements with Portugal that dealt with where you sleep, tourist activities, and things of that nature. This also includes extra safety precautions as well. If you need any accommodations, email Portugal and not me. _

_ Now, I know we - countries - hate each other in different ways (and I know you guys really hate me as well for causing this whole shitfest), but I’m asking to put that anger aside and go to this meeting. This meeting will have a compiled list of all suggestions and worries from this recent discovery. This included public relations, security, etc. At the end, we will draft an accord for this situation in hand. _

_ I know I am not giving too much details into the whole set up for this World Meeting, but please keep in mind that this is just an announcement. There will be more information in the near future.  _

_ Okay. With that in the way, I want to say sorry for all of the events that happened because of my carelessness. I know many of your guys aren’t going to be cool with me for a long time, but hear me out. I am trying my best to organize the details and make a plan of attack. No, it doesn’t involved robots or anything stupid that I had said in the past. I’m being more serious than ever. _

_ I am close to 250 years old, which is a child for most countries. But I want to make things right. I don’t know how to put it into words. I just want to correct my mistake. So help me do that by going to this meeting. I know that not every country can attend, but if you can, do so.  _

_ All that I ask when you - the personifications - that attend the meeting is this: _

_ 1) Keep a low presence for safety reasons. _

_ 2) Your individual sleeping arrangement will be emailed to you directly. _

_ 3) Bodyguards from your respected homes will be accepted, but not required. However, when the meeting is in session, the bodyguards have to wait outside until it’s over. This is due to secrecy reasons.  _

_ 4) (If you look like a teenager, you do not have to follow this) If you are physically a minor, please find fully developed nations to accompany you. If you can’t and depending on the situation, try to bring an adult human - bodyguards, government workers, etc. - that could look like your parent. I know it sounds out there and not to be rude, but some of you guys looked too young to travel alone (And I’m looking at you, South Sudan. I know you’re really independent and I can appreciate that, but you’re physically four years old. People will raise questions if you were alone in an airport). Rule 3 will also apply to the adults too. _

_ 5) Please don’t let this meeting be like the others. I know we tend to go off-topic and go into our own politics, but I will cut you off. This meeting is too important to degrade into a mess like usual. _

_ 6) All nations will have 5 minutes to talk (For duo situations - like the Italy Brothers - you both have to share the 5 minutes. I’m sorry, but if all countries come to the meeting, it will take many hours to get to all of the personifications). _

_ 7) Please file any suggestions or questions about the situation at the following email: QuestionsBank123@XXXX.gov _

_ I hope after the meeting, many of our problems with the discovery will be resolved. And the accords - while it has to be approved and signed by our respected governments - this is our chance to express some sort of opinion about the situation and do something about it. Again, if you can get to the meeting on the date, do so. Please.  _

_ We need everyone to pitch in.  _

_ \- Alfred F. Jones _

Matthew takes a step back. “Um . . .” he starts. “Okay, what the fuck.”

“I thought Canadians can’t curse, bro!” America chuckles. “Anyways, do you like it? I’m thinking about sending this to everyone via email.”

“Wait a second there. Please let me gather my thoughts,” Matthew pauses for a moment. “So for the entire time, you have been planning a World Meeting with Portugal?”

“Yes,” his brother nods

“And you’d kept this secret for months?”

“Again, yeah.”

“So personifications only got radio silence for months because you were busy with this?”

“I seriously dunno what you’re getting at,” America blinks.

“ _ Why didn’t you tell us this before? _ ” Matthew exclaims, causing the American to back up in his seat. “Why didn’t you just email ‘Hey, I’m arranging a World Meeting’ instead of letting hundreds of personifications panicked for months? I mean, my God! Have you seen the YouTube videos of personifications going just insane because they have no idea what to do? Literally, personifications are making their own laws about -”

“I know,” America raises a hand to stop his brother’s rant. “But I need to get things organized first before I put out anything else. If a single thing isn’t perfect, the literal whole world will not trust me again. And I - I really need everyone to trust me for this thing to work. Besides, I also got other plans too. Mainly, it’s plans to cover my ass, but plans anyways.”

Matthew crosses his arms. “Okay, America,” he says bluntly. “Then why am I here?”

“Is the announcement good?” America asks sincerely. “I show this to others, but they are humans. I wanna get an opinion from an actual nation so I won’t piss off other nations!”

And that’s how Matthew’s stay in New York and other American places extended to two weeks rather than a day or two. Also, he needs to get a zoo keeper or something to babysit Kumuji at home. He only left that bear at home with his Switch and meals for two days after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-Da! I hope it's good and the pictures are good. Also, drawing Canada is way easy this time. Like one of the easiest character for me to draw. But America is harder to draw than his brother. I dunno. Is it just me?
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much for reading this again!
> 
> Webcomic: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/a-goddess-handbook/list?title_no=306030  
DA Account: https://www.deviantart.com/almintoms


	14. North America - 2

_ The Most Exclusive Club In the World: World Meetings _

_ By: Henry McDonalds, An Armchair Journalist _

_ It has been months since humans discovered a new species of intelligent beings, and we are still learning about these beings who presumably personificated each country around the world. For example: _

_ We now know that some countries are descendants of certain “gods” in mythologies (The Italy Brothers are grandsons of Rome’s founder/personification, Romulus, who is also the son of the War God, Mars, and technically a “god” himself, Modern Day Greece is the son of Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war, who once personificated Athens/Ancient Greece, etc.) _

_ China is the oldest living personification, ranging between four to five thousands years old, but historians said that he could be possibly much older than that. _

_ However, there has been a topic that interested many, but it’s one that we have the least information about. In fact, the infamous Nation Files didn’t even mention it other than passing words.  _

_ World Meetings.  _

_ Everytime a worldwide event happens (which means it affects all nations and not a certain group. I.E. all World Wars ever), the files will say “Emergency World Meeting is required. Needs majority attendance.” From what we can gather, World Meetings are literal meetings where personificated nations go and discuss the current political climate of the world.  _

_ We are unsure what actually happens during a World Meeting or how often these nations go. There have been several nations that stepped in to fill in the gap of what we have been questioning for a long time. However, even with their input, the actual details about World Meetings are still vague. But we have the basic concept down. _

_ Last week, when questioned during a press conference, China’s personification was allowed to spill some information from his time as an ancient empire. He described it as having working relationships (and possibly, romantic ones. However, it wasn’t confirmed.) with other ancient empires. One that stood out is China’s relationship with the personification of Roman Empire. _

_ Historically, Sino relations with the Romans have been mostly indirect influences to their respected empires. However, we now know that what happened in the history books doesn’t always equal the actual relationship between these personifications. For example, there is a well-known friendship happening between the personifications of Iceland and Hong Kong, but they shared no previous history between their respected nations. _

_ This means that while history does play an element to these personification’s relationships, like how they met in the first place, it isn’t a deciding factor.  _

_ Now, allow me to explain the relationship between these two personifications and how it lays down the foundations of “World Meetings” in the modern day. _

_ From what we can theorize with the limited information we have, we can figure out the origins of the first World Meeting. _

_ Okay, first thing we need to establish is the actual relationship between the personifications of the former Roman Empire and China. As stated before, most Sino-Roman relations have been indirect, but it was revealed that their relationship went deeper than that. It turns out - from what China stated in his own conference - he was somewhat close friends with the Roman Empire (And no, armchair detectives. It isn’t confirmed to be romantic. We can only dream that it is.). _

_ In quotes: “It is only natural for [Rome and I] to know each other. We were two of the most powerful empires at the time. So on occasions, I bring him treats from my land and he would do that same.” _

_ However, when asked about the topic on World Meetings and how it works, China replies with scoff. _

_ “It’s Rome’s fault,” he says bitterly. “He thought it would be a good idea for empires to get together and discuss our issues while we drink until we pass out. That’s how World Meetings began in the first place. Now, World Meetings are just a joke with a bunch of children running with it. But I always go since I never missed a World Meeting before and don’t plan on breaking my record. Next.” _

_ When asked to elaborate, China ignored the question and said, “It doesn’t matter. World Meetings are for nations only. Not for nosey humans. Next.” _

_ And that’s all that we received from China. However, that isn’t all that was recovered concerning World Meetings. Other nations - though few - had mentioned World Meetings in a comment or two. Luckily, we had a nation that spoke in more details than others. _

_ The child personification of Moldova - a country in Eastern Europe - came out during his own press conference and said the following.  _

_ “Um,” he hesitates. “Okay . . . World Meetings are like playdates, but with a bunch of adults instead of kids and the playdate lasts for a few days. There’s a lot of energy, emotions, and basically nothing really gets done unless Germany is there. Of course, there’s a lot of pasta, advertising, Greece’s cats are sometimes there, and a drunk Bulgaria turning into the Yoghurt Fairy at the after party. But I get a lot of sweets when I come home. My bosses are nice like that, but they still never give me underwear even if I want it.” _

_ Okay, that’s basically all information we got for World Meetings. So let’s discuss the implications of the information above.  _

_ Let’s go back to China’s statements. He’d said that the origins of World Meetings came from the Roman Empire (personification-wise) in order to discuss issues happening in their respected countries. He also suggested that they may party during or after the meeting with alcohol included. At least from what Modovla stated, there is some sort of “after party” during or after the modern-day World Meeting. _

_ But we aren’t there yet in discussing how the modern-day World Meetings functioned. We are here to discuss the past World Meetings. Okay, for the millionth time, the purpose of World Meetings is to discuss issues about their respected country. But what kind of issues? An issue can be big as worldwide economic depression or a nation stubbing their toe on a table (Which by the way, we are still unsure how damage towards their bodies could affect their country? So calm your tits for a bit. It’s not the end of the world yet when a nation complained on Twitter how their back hurt, okay? Leave the Romanian vampire/fashion icon alone for once. Just leave Romania alone).  _

_ Despite not knowing what issue will be discussed, we can assume one indirect tone underlining the whole thing. Each country that attends the meeting has the opportunity to speak about an issue happening in their situation and possibly try to find “solutions” to their issue. That's a fact. In China’s quote, it inferred that if empires - or nations, in modern context - go to the meeting, they can speak about their issues. Which probably means that nations who are there are there for possible assistance from other nations. Therefore, World Meetings are chances for alliances to form and treaties to be made. In fact, there is a tiny part in Germany’s Files about the Treaty of Versailles (Which is the treaty that brought World War I to its end as well as punished Germany). _

_ “While it will remain public that The Treaty of Versailles was drafted during the Paris Peace Conference, the true original draft was created in a World Meeting and a private meeting among the several personifications who are a part of Paris Peace Conference. The nation who attended was Britain, France, Italy, and [America].” _

_ And as I stated before, the purpose of a World Meeting is for nations to come together and discuss issues. _

_ And I keep going on and on when we already know what's absolutely the basics. Listen! I know! However, the purpose of me - an asshole who reads too much online conspiracies - writing this is to inform you what we know to be true. To be frank, we have too much misinformation to the point where even government officials don’t know what the hell is going on. Remember the time where a Norwegian government official mistaken Norway and Iceland as father and son while they, in fact, were siblings. Did you know how much stress it causes them? _

_ In quotes, Iceland in this own press conference fucking said, “For a while, I felt disconnected with Norway or the other Nordics country because people think we were father and son online. Which is not true, and please don’t say it is. We are only brothers, and that’s it. Nothing more or less.” _

_ I don’t know about you, but it sounds like that kid has been through Hell with that assumption. We tend to forget that these creatures are able to use the internet and understand what we are typing into our screens. So for the sake of their mental health, I try to stick with the facts with one topic at a time. _

_ Okay, to restates. _

_ World Meetings are meetings (we don’t know how many times a year personifications attend or know if it’s required to attend) where nations come together and discuss their issues and possibly solve it (Again, we don’t know what kind of issues they talk about). _

_ There seems to be a lot of chaos involved and seem to be unproductive with the meetings (This could be biased on Moldova's part, considering he’s mentally a child). _

_ And today’s World Meetings seems to be a joke when compared to World Meetings in the past (Again, this could be biased due to China’s being an old man). _

_ And yeah, that’s basically it. We can theorize what’s going on with those World Meetings, but that’s it for the truth part. But I have a question, and just two small questions. _

_ When is the next World Meeting, and where is it? Because to be frank, there is usually one on the horizon when a worldwide historic event happens. This discovery is one. _

_ Look, I know I’m trying to stretch this paper out, but listen. It has been proven that these personifications have feelings. No questions about that. So do not harass them in any way, shape, or form. Because at the end of the day, they have feelings and interests that may go against what their leader may say. _

_ Thank you for reading. _

* * *

The winter is over and spring is peeking around the corner as the temperature rises into a conformable breeze. It has been a while since Iceland did his press conference, and it seems things are getting better for the most part. His people are always relaxed like always, especially when Iceland goes outside. Hell, he just went to the town nearby and no one really cares. The only time they pointed him out is when that same cashier as before asked him a question ever-so-smugly. “So, are you really our country now?”

The internet has been kinder. Even if in some places, there are still people who call him a “Babey.” While irritating, it’s way better than what people called him before. However, no one can mass delete the disturbing amount of Norway x Iceland fanfiction, but you can’t win at everything.

“Icy!” Denmark whines. “Entertain me!”

It’s the afternoon, and Iceland is in his living room, typing away on his laptop. While checking his emails, the Nordics were busy doing their own thing. Norway is in some corner, reading some “spell book” or something. Finland and Sweden are preparing a late lunch. Denmark is watching Netflix until he couldn’t watch anymore second-rate films and flings his remote to the next dimension. “I’m so bored, Icy!” Denmark leans on Iceland’s small frame. “I know our bosses said to stay put, but screw it. Let’s go to Reykjavík and get hammered.”

“We have alcohol here, idiot,” Norway comments, his eyes not once leaving his book. “You can get ‘hammered’ at home.”

“But it’s not the same!” Denmark pouts. “I wanna socialize and eat what Iceland got. I wanna try that black licorice shell that you pour over ice cream. I heard it’s really good.”

“Iceland can make that too,” Norway shuts his book. “He can make anything that involves black licorice.”

As Denmark whines in tragic boredom, Iceland’s computer pings with a new email.

_ From: United States of America _

_ Subject: World Meeting Information - JUNE 3, 20XX at 13:00 _

Iceland’s heart jumps to his throat as he quickly re-read the email. “My God . . .” he mutters.

“Huh?” Denmark snaps out of his dramatic act. “What’s wrong?”

“Guys, um,  _ everyone! _ ” Iceland opens the email to read its content. “You need to stop what you are doing and go to your guys' email _ right now _ !”

“Right now?” Denmark raises a brow.

“Right now.”

As the two busybodies walk out the kitchen to see what arises, Norway quickly fills them in as he takes out his phone. “I don’t get it,” Finland reaches for his tablet nearby. “What happened?”

“It seems like America finally decided to do something about this situation we are in,” Sweden says, looking at his phone.

“I’ll be damned,” Norway scans over the seemingly innocent email. “A World Meeting. And it’s serious.”

“World Meeting in Portugal!” Denmark cheers. “Finally! Something to do!”

“It’s serious, bro,” Norway comments. “It’s probably not like the others. I’d never read something so serious from the American since that text from months ago.”

As the room filled with chatter, they knew that this meeting wouldn’t be like the others.

* * *

He wonders what his twin brother is doing.

As South Korea lays in his bed and stares blankly into his phone, he can’t help it to let his mind wander. If North Korea is so isolated, would he know what is going on with the world? Does he know what their secret is out? Does he know or  _ care  _ that people are talking about them as a pair of brothers and not two countries at war? These are the questions that his mind went to.

_ I can’t sleep _ , the young man pushes the blanket from his body and lets the skin feel the cool air around him. So it’s going to be one of those nights, huh? A night where he can’t fall asleep without playing _ League of Legends  _ until his eyes sting.  _ Insomnia is so bothersome . . .  _ he thought as he set his on his table stand.  _ I wonder if I can get horse tranquilizer or something, but again, my healing factor is just crazy. _ He remembers a time as a child when a bunch of villagers mistaken him for a food ingredient and burned his whole body to ashes. While it seems lighthearted for him, other nations - even those who are older than him - would call it disturbing. But he guesses his whole life is pretty disturbing in general.

The Korean nation shakes his head in frustration.  _ Video games, da-ze! _ He thought, slapping both of his cheeks repeatedly.  _ Let’s play a video game that I’m internationally known for and destroyed a ton of esport leagues in, da-ze! _

So with renewed determination, he hops on his desktop, puts on his glasses (yes, he needs glasses to see, but no one but Hong Kong knows about that), and types away. Sure, his bosses’  _ Cinderella Law _ was created just so their nation doesn’t play games all night long, but identity fraud is always helpful when faking an age. If only Yong Soo was just physically one more year older, he wouldn’t pay some asshole online for fake identities. However, just as he’s about to play, South Korea hears a ping on a tab he casually left open (What? He wanted to do other things besides gaming too. How else can he simultaneously listen to K-pop, read webcomics, read extremely confidential emails, and play League then, huh?). 

“Huh?” he squints, switching over only to his emails. He adjusts his eyes to the English on his screen to only reread moments later.

_ OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT TO ALL PERSONIFICATIONS: _

_ EMERGENCY WORLD MEETING ON JUNE 3, 20XX AT 13:00 _

_ AT THE SÃO BENTO PALACE, PORTUGAL _

He read it again and checked who had sent it. It was America and that’s the American’s email address alright. This email is real. 

If Yong Soo wasn’t slightly tired already, he would be jumping up and down and screaming “Finally!” because he was getting tired of staying indoors and watching  _ Kingdom _ for the nth time. While really happy about the good news, he can’t help but sigh too. He picks up his phone near him and rings his prime minister, no doubtingly waking him up in such an ungodly hour. But hey, this isn’t the first time he wakes his boss up like this. Last time, South Korea woke his boss up because his country wants to eat cheesy corn dogs and drink soju at 4 o’clock in the morning but doesn’t want to do it alone.

However, this time is important. 

As his boss picks up his phone, Yong Soo quickly explains the situation and requests two roundtrip flights for Lisbon and Pyongyang. He knows he’s probably unwanted, but even North Korea deserves to know what is happening.

* * *

“Could you think this bunker situation out better, Vene?” the eldest brother, Italy Romano, complains, bending over the tomato plants and checking each blooming bud. “My back still feels dead, and we’d been out of that shithole for a while.”

The younger brother, Italy Veneziano, just chuckles nervously and promises to fix the bunker when the situation gets better. It has been a while since the discovery happened, and it has been getting better. Of course, some reporter broke into their new house within a week of staying there and demanded an interview or else she will release their new address out to the public, but hey, you can’t win everything. 

So far, it has been peaceful. While their faces are over the news, it seems like no one wants to approach them while they are shopping. Now, only if Germany would call him again. It has been months since Veneziano spoke with his scary friend. He was able to talk with Japan, who unfortunately was unable to contact the German too. From what he had last heard, Veneziano heard that Germany and his brother’s house was burned down in a rage-filled riot . . .

But surely, Germany has to be fine.

If he isn’t, then his country reflects that, but no, his people - while still pissed - are doing well in terms of economy and still have standing government bodies. So he has to be fine, right? “Vene!” his brother calls. “What the hell are you doing over there?”

Veneziano snaps out from his thoughts and looks aways from the lettuce plant he had stared at a few moments ago. “Sorry, Big Brother!” he quickly says. 

Romano can only scoff and shove a basket full of produce into the younger’s hands. “Just take these to the kitchen if you’re not gonna help,” he states.

Veneziano nods and walks away. He is still surprised that they were able to grow so many vegetables in such a short amount of time, but to be honest, it seems like plants just grow faster with Romano around. Romano was quite a farmer when they were little and still knows a lot more about plants than what Veneziano can imagine. On the other hand, Veneziano admits that he grew up pretty spoiled and slept in amazing beds that kings in the 1500s can only envied for. Even when he was a servant dressed up like a girl, little him wouldn’t eat the freshly made foods his masters provided due to the lack of spices in him (especially when he grew up with Grandpa Rome and many luxuries the old man provided, like spices). 

_ Buzz! Buzz! _

“Huh?” Veneziano turns to see his phone rings off across the living room. Before the discovery, Veneziano just lets the phone ring until it stops and checks on it later, but after experiencing that traumatizing night where none of his calls went through, he picks it up nowadays. Yet Veneziano is surprised to see a text notification for his email. 

Veneziano feels frustration and regret for not installing the email app his boss told him before, because if he did, he wouldn’t have climbed upstairs now and brought down his laptop like he just did. He swears that he is slowly turning into his grumpy big brother with each day that passes, and it’s honestly a little scary. Veneziano doesn’t like his personality changing, but he will admit that he isn’t getting enough sleep or rest since the discovery happened. It seems like it's just “Go! Go! Go!” all the time.

But he shouldn’t complain. There are others who had it harder.

“Oi! Veneziano!” Romano walks inside, wiping his hands on a dirtied rag. “What are you doing?”

“There’s a World Meeting in Mr. Portugal's place,” Veneziano states. 

“Eh?” Romano put the rag on the counter. “Are you -”

“Yes, I’m being serious right now. Look!” Veneziano turns his computer around and points to the email. “It’s from America!”

Romano leans in and briefly reads the header. “You’re shitting me.”

“I’m not lying,” Veneziano says as he turns the computer back. “So are we going then?”

“If it’s real, yeah,” Romano runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I’m going to make some calls. I haven’t seen Portugal since I helped Spain with his civil war thing.”

“Didn’t you get shot in the ass during that?” Veneziano closes the laptop and puts it on the side.

“Yes, I did get shot in the ass for that man, and now, I need to make some calls,” Romano yells back, already climbing the stairs. “And you should make some calls too, because I don’t feel like interacting with our bosses today.”

As Veneziano agrees to the order, Romano is muttering curses under his breath and saying how tired he is of this discovery bullshit. His younger brother can’t help but sympathize with his stress. However, they were still very lucky. It could have been worse than it is.

But again, it’s starting to feel like it would never end.

* * *

“America, what are you going on about?” 

In the midst of the hospital chaos, England was forced to ask his bodyguards to give him some privacy and step in an empty bathroom to take with this idiot. Over the phone, the man’s voice buzzes but you clearly hear what he said.

_ “There is a World Meeting in Portugal, _ ” America claims.  _ “I just sent a mass email to every country in the world right now. So you can check your inbox if you don’t believe me.” _

England is stunned. “And why did you call me?” he asks, unsure. “If you need some kind of European support, you called the wrong country for it.”

_ “Look England, I don’t care for Europe or anything for that matter,” _ the American sighs.  _ “I - I just want to call you and tell you what I did.” _

“That’s it?” England blinks. “You’re kidding, are you?”

_ “No,” _ America sounds awful to the British man, like he just ran a marathon.  _ “I know we got a rough history together, but look, you’re still kinda raised by me and I’d always seen you as my big brother. So that’s that . . .” _

England is about to hang up on this man. Did someone replace America with someone more smart - or dumber maybe? Was America in California and is getting high on cannabis again? There has to be an explanation other than sincerity, but this is America. There are no high standards for him.

Nevertheless, the American continues.

_ “I know I fucked up this time. I really fucked up,” _ he explains.  _ “There’s no excuses on this, but I am trying to make things right this time. And I want to tell you this because - I don’t know. Guilt?” _

“America,” England finally says something. “What are you planning this time? Are you sure this World Meeting won’t be a waste of time? Because a giant robot won’t help preserve our situation.”

_ “I haven’t been this overworked and tired since I'd built the Hoover Dam during the Great Depression. Yes, this meeting will be serious, no, there isn’t a giant robot, and I highly doubt people will treat it like the others too. This is hundred percent serious.” _

“Well,” England checks over his shoulders. “I have to go now. Sealand did something stupid and I have to deal with it now.”

_ “Also, certain micronations are allowed for the meeting too,” _ America says.  _ “I’m making another email about it, but yeah, pass it on to Sealand. I heard what happened.” _

England can only sigh in his own distress. After politely saying their goodbyes, England turns around and walks out of the bathroom, not once leaving behind his concerns for the near future.

* * *

**The White House Released Details about An US Personification Press Conference**

**By: Charles Adams, CNN**

_ April 2, 20XX _

On the day this article is being published, The White House had stated that “For the benefits of Americans, we will select a few news sources and conduct a press conference with the personification of America.” The official date of the press conference will be on April 12 and will take place in the White House’s Press Briefing Room.

However, we can confirm that there will be CNN members during the expected conference and will be updating on further developments on this historical event. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeah . . . There's not much North American countries going on here . . .
> 
> Okay, confession time: I am not the biggest fan when writing America or Canada, so this entire arc isn't my greatest work. However, this arc is important to lay down the foundations of the future arcs, taking place. 
> 
> Anyways, thank you so, so much for the comments and all of the kudos you gave me. Honestly, this is so much considering this is the first fic I'd ever posted here. Thank you!
> 
> Webcomic: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/a-goddess-handbook/list?title_no=306030  
DA Account: https://www.deviantart.com/almintoms

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! My name is Almin Toms! I'm an artist and writer, and currently working on a webcomic completely different from this fic.
> 
> This fic is a side project (My main project is the webcomic, of course!) that I'm doing for fun and junk!
> 
> However, I'll try my best to give you a fun fic to read! I hope my artworks are nice to look at!
> 
> If you are interested in my other artworks of mine, my DeviantArt account is: https://www.deviantart.com/almintoms
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this!


End file.
